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CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICIVIH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  Institut  Canadian  de  micro^eproductions  historiques 


1980 


* 


Technical  Notes  /  Notes  techniques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filr.<ing.  Physical 
features  of  this  copy  which  may  alter  any  of  the 
images  in  the  reproduction  are  checked  below. 


D 

D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couvertures  de  couleur 


Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  g6ographiques  en  couleur 


L'Institut  a  microfilm*  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  ix6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Certains 
dAfauts  susceptibles  de  nuire  A  la  qualit*  de  la 
reproduction  sont  notte  ci-dessous. 


D 
D 


Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 


Coloured  plates/ 
Planches  en  couleur 


□ 


Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  dicoiordes,  tachettes  ou  piqu6es 


Tight  binding  (may  cause  Shadows  or 
distortion  along  interior  margin)/ 
Reliure  serr6  (peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou 
de  la  distortion  le  long  de  la  marge 
intdrieure) 


D 


D 


Show  through/ 
Transparence 


Pages  damaged/ 
Pages  endommagies 


/ 


n 


Additional  comments/ 
Commentaires  suppl^mentaires 


Bibliographic  Notes  /  Notes  bibliographiques 


D 
D 


Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponibie 


Bound  with  other  material/ 
Reli6  avec  d'autres  documents 


D 
D 


Pagination  incorrect/ 
Erreurs  de  pagination 


Pages  missing/ 
Des  pages  manquent 


D 


Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 


D 


Maps  missing/ 

Des  cartes  giographiques  manquent 


n 


Plates  missir  g/ 

Des  planches  manquent 


D 


Additional  comments/ 
Commentaires  supplAmentaires 


The  images  appearing  here  are  the  best  quality 
possible  considering  the  condition  and  legibility 
of  the  original  copy  and  in  Iceeping  with  the 
\ilming  contract  specifications. 


The  last  recorded  frame  on  each  microfiche  shall 
contain  the  symbol  — ►  (meaning  CONTINUED"), 
or  the  symbol  y  (meaning  "END"),  whichever 
applies. 


Las  images  suivantes  ont  4t4  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grand  soin,  compte  tenu  de  la  condition  at 
de  la  nettet*  de  I'exemplaire  film*,  et  en 
conformit6  avec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmage. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaftra  sur  la  der- 
nitre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le  cas: 
le  symbols  -^  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le  symbols 
y  signifie  "FIN". 


The  original  copy  was  borrowed  from,  and 
filmed  with,  the  kind  consent  of  the  following 
institution: 

National  Library  of  Canada 


L'exemplaire  film*  fut  reproduit  grAce  d  la 
g6n6rosit6  de  l'6tablissement  prAteur 
suivant : 

Bibiiothtque  nationals  du  Canada 


IVIaps  or  plates  too  large  to  be  entirely  included 
in  one  exposure  are  filmed  beginning  in  the 
upper  iaft  hand  corner,  left  to  right  and  top  to 
bottom,  as  many  frames  as  required.  The 
following  diagrams  illustrate  the  method: 


Les  cartes  ou  les  planches  trop  grandes  pour  dtre 
reproduites  en  un  seui  cHoM  sont  film6es  A 
partir  de  I'angle  8up6rieure  gauche,  de  gauche  d 
droite  et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  ndcessaire.  Le  diagramme  suivant 
illustre  la  mdthode  : 


1 

2 

a 

::;,:it^'^ 

:   MS'^ 

■    : 

4 

6 

6 

] 


.  /3S^ '. 


HENRY    IRVING'S 


IMPRESSIONS  or  AMERICA 


NABRATED   IN  A   8EUIES  OF 


SKETCHES,    CimOJSriCLES,   jU^D 
G  ON  VERS  A  TlOJSrS 


BY 


JOSEPH    HATTON 


AUTHOR    or 
"CLTTIK,"    "CRUEL    LONDON,"    "THREE    RECRUITS,"    "TO-DAY    IN    AMERICA,"    KTC. 


BOSTON 

JAMES  R.   OSGOOD  AND  COMPANY 

1884 


-  .      ■'■      ^L       ■■!-<:  '■;-. 


Copyright,  1884 
James  R.  Osgood  and  Company 


h' 


All  rigfits  reserved 


Press  of  Rockwell  and  Churchill,  39  Arch  Si. 


TO  THE  AMEEICAN  PUBLIC. 


This  book  is  the  outcome  of  a  desire  to  chronicle, 
in  a  lasting  form,  some  of  the  events  of  a  tour  which 
your  kindness  has  made  a  delight  to  Ellen  Teny 
and  myself.  Before  leaving  London  I  ventured  upon 
a  prophecy  that  in  journeying  to  America  we  were 
going  amongst  friends.  That  prophecy  has  been 
fulfilled.  •     ' 

In  the  history  of  the  stage  the  Lyceum  Company  is 
the  first  complete  organization  which  has  crossed  the 
Atlantic  with  the  entire  equipment  of  a  theatre. 

As  the  tour  is,  I  believe,  unique,  so  also  is  this 
record  of  it ;  and  I  particularly  desire  to  emphasize 
a  fact  concerning  its  authorship.  I  am,  myself, 
only  responsible  for  my  share  in  the  conversations 
and  dialogues  that  are  set  down,  everything  else 
being  the  work  of  my  friend,  Joseph  Hatton,  well 
known  to  you  as  the  author  of  "To-day  in 
America." 


IV 


PItEFACE. 


I  can  but  trust  that  I  have  not  erred  in  express- 
ing, for  publication,  some  passing  thoughts  about  a 
country  wliich  has  excited  my  profound  admiration, 
and  wliich  hjw  the  highest  claims  upon  my  gratitude. 


New  Yokk,  April  30,  1884. 


HENRY  IRVING. 


'■•(■■    .'■■<,, :i^i'f'i  {    i'.-  •■■  .  ,;\,  ■  V,. 


^■i^^;i 


OOI^TENTS, 


I. —AT  HOME. 

Talking  of  America  —  Warned  against  the  Interviewer  — 
"  Travellers' Tales" —  Good-by  to  London — International 
Gossip  —  A  Mythical  Palace  on  the  Thames  —  Reports 
from  "  A  Little  English  Friend  "  —  The  Grange  — A  Graf- 
ton Street  Interior  —  Souvenirs  and  Portraits  —  An  Actor 
on  His  Audiences  —  Hamlet  at  the  Lyceum  —  Critics  and 
Public  Opinion  —  The  Final  Verdict  —  First  Nights  — 
Anonymous  Letters  —  Notable  Gifts  —  The  Character  of 
Louis  XI.  —  "A  Poor  Mother  who  had  Lost  Her  Son  "  — 
Scene  Calls  —  Stories  of  a  *'  Dresser"  —  Behind  the 
Scenes  —  "  Waking  Up  "  —  The  Original  Beefsteak  Club 
Room  —  Host  and  Guests 


PAsa 


n.  — NEW  YORK. 

Going  to  Meet  the  ' «  Britannic  "  —  The  '  *  Blackbird  "  —  Skirm- 
ishers of  the  American  Press  —  The  London  "Stand- 
ard's" Message  to  New  York,  Boston,  and  Chicago  — 
*'  Working  "  America  —  "  Reportorial  "  Experiences  — 
Daylight  off  Staten  Island  —  At  Quarantine  under  the 
Stars  and  Stripes  —  "  God  Save  the  Queen  I  "  and  '*  Hail 
to  the  Chief !  "  —  Received  and  "Interviewed  "  —  "  Portia 
on  a  Trip  from  the  Venetian  Seas  "  —  What  the  Report- 
ers Think  and  what  Irving  Says  — The  Necessity  of  Ap- 
plause —  An  Anecdote  of  Forrest  —  Mr.  Vanderbilt  and 
the  Mirror  —  Miss  Terry  and  the  Reporters  — ' '  Tell  them 
I  never  loved  home  so  well  as  now  "  — Landed  and  Wel- 
comed —  Scenes  on  the  Quay  —  At  the  Brevoort     .        , 


39 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


III.  — FIRST  IMPRESSIONS. 


PAQB 


Union  Square,  New  York  —  An  Enterprising  Chronicler  — 
The  Lambs  —  The  Newspapers  and  the  Now-coraers  — 
•*Aii  nust  Advance  with  the  Times"  —  "Romeo  and 
Juliet ''  at  the  Lyceum —  *•  Character  Parts  "  —  No  Real 
Tradition  of  Shakespearian  Acting — "Mannerisms"  — 
The  Stage  as  an  Educator — Lafayette  Place  —  A  Nota- 
ble Little  Dinner  —  The  Great  American  Bird,  "  Not  the 
Eagle,  but  the  Duck"  —  A  Question  of  "Appropriate 
Music  "  —  Speculators  in  Tickets  and  their  Enormous 
Profits  —  Middlemen,  the  Star  Theatre,  and  the  Play- 
going  Public 65 


IV.— AT   TUE    LOTOS   CLUB. 

The  Savage  Club  of  America  —  Thackeray  and  Lord  Hough- 
ton —  A  Great  Banquet  —  Mr.  Whitclaw  Reid  on  Irving 
and  the  Actor's  Calling —  ""Welcome  to  a  Country  where 
he  may  find  not  Unworthy  Brethren  "  —  An  Answer  to  the 
Warnings  of  the  English  Traveller  of  Chapter  I.  — 
"Shakespeare's  Charles  the  First"  — A  Night  of  Wit 
and  Humor  —  Chaunccy  M.  Dcpcw  on  Theatrical  Evolu- 
tion—  The  Knighting  of  Sullivan  —  The  Delineator  of 
Romance  visiting  the  Home  of  America's  Creator  of 
Romance  —  After-dinner  Stories  —  Conspiring  against 
the  Peace  of  a  Harmless  Scotchman  —  A  Pleasant  Jest  . 


81 


V.  -THE  NIGHT  BEFORE  THE  PLAY. 

The  Vividness  of  First  Impressions  —  New  York  Hotels  — 
On  the  Elevated  Road  with  "  Charlie "  — Trotting 
Horses  —  Audiences  on  both  Sides  of  the  Atlantic  —  "  A 
Man  knows  best  what  he  can  do"  —  "Americanisms," 
80  called — A  Satirical  Sketch,  entitled  "Bitten  by  a 
Dog  "  —  Louis  and  the  Duke  of  Stratford-on-Avon  — 
Macready  and  the  Forrest  Riots 


108 


CONTENTS. 


VI 1 


VI. —THE  BELLS. 


PAQB 


A  Stormy  Night  in  New  York—  Ticket-Speculators  at  Work 
—  A  First-night  Audience  —  Mathius  received  with  En- 
thusiasm—  Behind  the  Scenes  —  Lighting  the  Stage  — 
Returning  Thanks  —  Criticism  of  the  Crowd  —  John 
Gilbert's  Opinion  —  Actor  and  Audience —  English  Play- 
goers and  Londoners  —  Laughter  and  Applause — An 
Artistic  Triumph 123 


VIL  —  "RED  LETTER  DAYS.' 


Miss  Ellen  Terry's  First  Appearance  in  New  York  —  The 
Press  on  Charles  and  the  Queen  —  A  Professional  Mat- 
inee—  An  Audience  of  Actors  to  See  Louis  XI.  —  How 
they  Impressed  the  Actor,  and  what  they  Thought  of 
Him  —  A  Visit  to  Henry  "Ward  Beecher  —  At  Church 
and  at  Home  —  Mrs.  Beecher  and  Miss  Terry  — 
lieminiscences  —  Studies  of  Death,  Physiological  and 
Idealistic  —  Louis'  Death  and  Hamlet's  —  A  Strange 
Story 


UO 


v.^- 


VIII.  -  A  QUIET  EVENING. 

A  First  Visit  behind  the  Scenes  —  Cooper  and  Kean  —  The 
University  Club  —  A  very  Notable  Dinner  —  Chief  Jus- 
tice Davis  and  Lord  Chief  Justice  Coleridge  —  A  Menu 
worth    Discussing  —  Terrapin  and  Canvas-Back    Duck 

—  "A  Little  Family  Party"  —  Florence's  Romance  — 
Among  the  Lambs  —  The  Fate  of  a  '   ^nuscript  Speech 

—  A  Story  of  John  Kemble  —  Woxab  of  Welcome  — 
Last  Night  of  the  New  York  Engagement  —  Au  Ee- 
voir! 166 


•  •• 

VUl 


CONTENTS. 


IX  —AT  PHILADELPHIA  AND  '*IN  CLOVER." 


PAOB 


Rivalries  of  American  Cities  —  Boston  and  Philadelphia  — 
The  Real  and  the  Picturesque  —  Miss  Terry's  Portia  — 
"Three  Kinds  of  Criticism"  —  First  Appearance  as 
Hamlet  —  Miss  Terry's  Ophelia  —  Journalism  and  the 
Stage  —  Critics,  Past  and  Present  —  Philadelphia  and 
English  Cities  —  A  New  Stylo  of  Newspaper  —  Bogus 
Reports  and  Interviews;  an  Example  of  Them — The 
Clover  Club  —  A  Letter  from  an  Eminent  American  Tra- 
gedian —  Presented  with  Forrest's  Watch  —  The  Mac- 
ready  Trouble  —  Hamlet,  and  an  Invitation  from  Guest 
to  Hosts 187 


I, 


'  X.  — BOSTON  AND  SHYLOCK. 

Rural  Scenes  on  Both  Sides  of  the  Atlantic  —  First  Impres- 
sions of  Railway  Travel  —  The  Cars — One  of  the 
Largest  Theatres  in  America  —  The  Drama  in  Boston  — 
Early  Struggles  to  represent  Plays  in  Public  —  "Moral 
Lectures" — Boston  Criticisms  —  Shylock,  Portia,  Ham- 
let, and  Ophelia  —  Different  Readings  of  Shylock  — 
Dressing-Room  Criticism  —  Shylock  considered  —  A 
Reminiscence  of  Tunis  —  How  Shakespeare  should  be 
interpreted  on  the  Stage  —  Two  Methods  illustrated  — 
Shylock  before  the  Court  of  Venice  —  How  Actors 
should  be  judged 214 


XL— A  CITY  OF  SLEIGHS. 

Snow  and  Sleigh  Bells —  "  Brooks  of  Sheffield"— In  the 
Boston  Suburbs  —  Smokeless  Coal  —  At  the  Somerset 
Club  —  Miss  Ellen  Terry  and  the  Papyrus  —  A  Ladies' 
Night — Club  Literature  —  Curious  Minutes  —  "  Greeting 
to  Ellen  Terry"— St.  Botolph— Oliver  Wendell  Holmes 
and  Charles  the  First — "Good-by  and  a  Merry  Christ- 
mas " 


237 


CONTENTS. 


IX 


XII.  —  LOOKING  FORWARD  TO  CHRISTMAS. 


PAGE 


Interviewing  in  England  and  America  —  Rehearsing  Richard 
and  Lady  Ann  —  Reminiscences  of  a  Christmas  Dinner  — 
A  Homely  Feast  —  Joe  Robins  and  Guy  Fawkes  —  IIo 
would  be  an  Actor  —  The  Luxury  of  Warmth  —  '•  One 
Touch  of  Nature  " 254 


XIII. —A   WILD  RAILWAY  JOURNEY. 


A  Great  American  Railway  Station  —  Platforms  and  Waiting- 
Rooms  —  A  Queer  Night  —  "  Snow  is  as  Bad  as  Fog  "  — 
A  Farmer  who  Suggests  Mathias  in  "The  Bells"  —  A 
Romance  of  the  Hudson  —  Looking  for  the  "  Maryland  " 
and  Finding  "The  Danites"  —  Fighting  a  Snow-storm  — 
"  A  Ministering  Angel"  —  The  Publicity  of  Private  Cars 
—  Mysterious  Proceedings  —  Strange  Lights  —  Snowed 
up  —  Digging  out  the  Radway  Points  —  A  Good  Samari- 
tan Locomotive  —  Trains  Ahead  of  Us,  Trains  Behind 
Us  —  Railway  Lights  and  Bells  —  "  What's  Going  On?  " 


264 


XIV.  —  CHRISTMAS,    AND    AN 

THE    WAY. 


INCIDENT    BY 


At  Baltimore  —  Street  Scenes  —  Christmas  Wares  —  Pretty 
Women  in  "Rubber  Cloaks"  —  Contrasts  —  Street 
Hawkers  —  Southern  Blondes  —  Furs  and  Diamonds  — 
Rehearsing  under  Difficulties  —  Blacks  and  Whites  — 
Negro  PhUosophy — Honest  Work  —  "The  Best  Com- 
pany on  its  Legs  I  have  ever  seen  "  —  Our  Christmas  Sup- 
per —  * '  Absent  Friends  "  —  Pictures  in  the  Fire  and  After- 
wards —  An  Intercepted  Contribution  to  Magazine  Litera- 
ture —  Correcting  a  Falsehood  —  Honesty  and  Fair 
Play  ...        


285 


CONTENTS. 


XV.— FROM  BROOKLYN  TO  CHICAGO. 

'*  Fussy  "  —  The  Brooklyn  Ferry  —  Crossing  the  North 
River  —  A  Picturesque  Crowd — Brooklyn  Bridge  at 
Night  —  Warned  against  Chicago  —  Conservatism  of 
American  Critics  —  Dangers  of  the  Road  —  Railway- 
Train  Bandits  —  An  Early  Interviewer  —  A  Reporter's 
Story  —  Life  on  a  Private  Car — Miss  Terry  and  her 
"Luck"  —  American  Women 


PAOB 


806 


XVL  — THE  PRAIRIE  CITY. 

First  Impressions  of  Chicago  —  A  Bitter  Winter — Great 
Storms  —  Thirty  Degrees  below  Zero  —  On  the  Shores 
of  Lake  Michigan  —  Street  Architecture  —  Pullman  City 

—  Western  Journalism  —  Chicago  Criticism  —  Notable 
Entertainments  —  At  the  Press  Club — The  Club  Life 
of  America  —  What  America  has  done — Unfair  Com- 
parisons between  the  Great  New  World  and  the  Older 
Civilizations  of  Europe  —  Mistaking  Notoriety  for  Fame 

—  A  Speech  of  Thanks  —  Facts,  Figures,  and  Tests  of 
Popularity,  Past  and  to  Come 321 


XVII.  —  ST.  LOUIS,  CINCINNATI,  INDIANAPOLIS, 

COLUMBUS. 


Sunshine  and  Snow  —  Wintry  Landscapes  —  Fire  and  Frost 
—  Picturesque  St.  Louis  — "The  Elks"  — A  Notable 
Reception  —  "Dime  Shows"  —  Under-studies — Ger- 
many in  America  —  "On  the  Ohio" — Printing  under 
Difficulties  —  "Baggage-smashing"  —  Hand8on.o  Ne- 
groes and  Sunday  Papers  —  The  Wonders  of  Chicago    . 


'■■r 


3U 


CONTENTS. 


XI 


PAoa 


805 


XVIII.  —  CHIEFLY    CONCERNING 
AT    NIAGARA. 


A   HOLIDAY 


PAOll 


The  Return  Visit  to  Chicago  —  Welcomed  Back  again  — 
Farewell  Speech — Niagara  in  the  Winter  —  A  Sensation 
at  the  Hotel  —  Requisitioning  adj  accnt  Towns  for  Chickens 
and  Turkeys  —  Ira  Aldridge  and  a  Colored  Dramatic  Club  . 
—  A  Blizzard  from  tlio  North-west  —  The  Scene  of 
Webb's  Death  —  "A  great  Stage-manager,  Nature"  — 
Life  and  Death  of  "The  Hermit  of  Niagara "  —  A  Fatal 
Picnic  —  The  Lyceum  Company  at  Dinner  —  Mr.  Howe 
Proposes  a  Toast — Terriss  meets  with  an  Accide'^t  that 
recalls  a  Romantic  Tragedy      ......    863 


321 


XIX.  — FROM  TORONTO  TO  BOSTON. 

Lake  Ontario  —  Canadian  Pastimes  —  Tobogganing —  On  an 
Ice  Slide  —  "Shooting  Niagara  and  After" — Toronto 
Students  —  Dressing  for  the  Theatre  —  "God  Save  the 
Queen  "  —  Incidents  of  Travel  —  Locomotive  Vagaries  — 
Stopping  the  Train  —  "  Fined  One  Hundred  Dollars  "  — 
The  Hotels  and  the  Poor  —  Tenement  Houses  —  The 
Stage  and  the  Pulpit —  Actors,  Past  and  Present  —  The 
Stage  and  the  Bar-room  —  The  Second  Visit  to  Boston  — 
Enormous  Receipts  —  A  Glance  at  the  Financial  Results 
of  the  Tour 882 


344 


XX.  —  WASHINGTON,    NEW    ENGLAND, 
SOME    "RETURN    VISITS." 


AND 


From  Rail  to  River  —  Once  More  on  Board  the  "  Maryland" 

—  Recollections  of  President  Arthur  —  At  the  White 
House  —  Washington  Society  —  An  Apt  Shakespearian 
Quotation  —  Distinguished  People  —  "  Hamlet "  —  A 
Council  of  War  — Making  Out  the  Route  of  a  New  Tour 

—  A  Week  in  New  England  Cities  —  Brooklyn  and  Phila- 
delphia Revisited      399 


<J1 


CONTENTS. 


XXI.  — "BY  THE    WAY." 

"  My  Name  is  MuUdoon,  I  live  in  the  Twenty-fourth  "Ward** 
—  Protective  Duties  and  the  Fine  Arts  —  "  The  General 
Muster  "  —  A  Message  from  Kansas  City  —  American 
Cabmen — Alarming  Notices  in  Hotels  —  The  Chicago 
Fire  Service  —  What  a  Fire  Patrol  can  Do  in  a  feur 
Seconds  —  Marshalling  the  Fire  Brigades  —  William 
Winter  —  •'  Office  Rules  "  —  The  Reform  Club  and  Poli- 
tics —  Enterprising  Reporters  —  International  Satire  — 
How  a  Man  of  " Simple  and  Regular  Habits  "  Lives  — 
Secretaries  in  Waiting  —  The  Bisbee  Murders  —  ♦'  Hunted 
Down  "  —  Outside  Civilization  —  "  The  Bazoo  "  —  The 
Story  of  a  Failure  —  A  Texan  Tragedy  —  Shooting  in  a 
Theatre  —  Evolutions  of  Towns 


PAOR 


423 


XXII.  — "THE  LONGEST  JOURNEY  COMES  TO     .v  ^ 

AN  END."  ; 

♦' Our  Closing  Month  in  New  York"  —  Lent  —  At  Rehearsal 
— Finishing  Touches  —  Behind  the  Scenes  at  the  Lyceum 
and  the  Star  —  The  Story  of  the  Production  of  ' '  Much 
Ado "  in  New  York  —  Scenery  and  Properties  on  the 
Tour  —  Tone  —  Surprise  for  Agents  in  Advance  —  In- 
teresting Technicalities  —  An  Incident  of  the  Mounting  of 
'•Much  Ado"  —  The  Tomb  Scene  —  A  Great  Achieve- 
ment—The End 463 


*  *-:■ 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


AT  HOME. 

Talking  of  America  —  Warned  against  the  Interviewer  —  *'  Travellers' 
Talcs" — Good  by  to  London  —  International  Gossip — A  Mythical 
Palace  on  the  Thames  —  Reports  from  "  A  Little  English  Friend  " 
—  The  Grange  —  A  Grafton-Strcet  Interior  —  Souvenii-s  and  Por- 
ti*ait9  —  An  Actor  on  His  Audiences  —  Ilamlot  at  the  Lyceum  — 
Critics  and  Public  Opinion  —  The  Final  Verdict  —  Fii-st  Nights  — 
Anonymous  Letters  —  Notable  Gifts  —  The  Character  of  Louis  XI.  — 
"A  Poor  Iklother  who  had  Lost  Her  Son" — Scene  Calls  —  Stories 
of  a  "  Dresser  "  —  Behind  the  Scenes  —  "  Waking  Up  "  —  The  Original 
Beefsteak  Club  Room  —  Host  and  Guests. 


"And  I  don't  think  he  believes  a  word  I  have  said," 
was  Mr.  John  T.  Raymond's  own  commentary  upon  a 
series  of  romances  of  "the  wild  West"  which  he  had 
related  to  Mr.  Henry  Irving^  with  an  intensity  that 
was  worthy  of  Col.  Sellers  himself. 

1  John  Hemy  Brodripp  Ii-ving  was  bom  at  Keinton,  near  Glastonbury 
(the  scene  of  the  tradition  of  the  sacred  thorn),  February  6,  1838.  In 
1849  his  father  sent  him  to  the  private  scliool  of  Dr.  Pinches,  in  George 
Yard,  Lombard  street,  London.  During  his  school  days  he  evinced  a  taste 
for  dramatic  poetiy.  lie  was  placed  in  the  office  of  an  East  India 
house,  and  might,  had  he  liked  his  occupation,  have  become  a  prosperous 
merchant ;  hut  his  ambition  gravitated  towards  the  stage.  He  made  per- 
sonal sacrifices  in  many  ways  to  educate  himself  in  the  direction  of  his 
taste  for  dramatic  work.  He  read  plays,  studied  the  theatre  and  dramatic 
literature,  became  an  expert  fencer,  practised  elocution  with  a  famous 


2 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


The  comedian's  reminiscences  were  graphic  narra- 
tives of  theatrical  and  frontier  life,  with  six-shooters 
and  bowie-knives  in  them,  and  narrow  escapes  enough 
to  have  made  the  fortunes  of  what  the  Americans  call  a 
ten-cent  novel. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  believe  it  is  the  duty  of  the  door-keeper  at 
a  Western  tlicatre  to  collect  the  weapons  of  the  audi- 
ence before  admitting  the  people  to  the  house  ;  that 
what  we  call  the  cloak-room  in  London,  you  might  call 
the  armory  out  West ;  and  that  the  bowie-knife  of  a 
Texan  critic  never  weighs  less  than  fourteen  pounds. 
But  I  am  not  going  as  far  as  Texas,  though  one  might 
do  worse  if  one  were  merely  crossing  the  Atlantic  in 
search  of  adventures." 


actor,  and  in  1855  left  London  and  obtained  an  engagement  in  a  pro- 
vincial theatre.  An  earnest  student  always,  he  fought  hia  way  through 
a  world  of  troubles,  and  made  his  first  success  at  the  St.  James  Theatre, 
London,  October  6,  1866,  a.s  Doricourt  in  "The  Belle's  Stratagem." 
He  aftenvards  played  in  eccentric  comedy  with  Toole;  made  a  hit  in 
melodrama  at  the  now  defunct  Queen's  Theatre;  then  went  to  Paris 
with  Sothern,  and  played  Abel  Murcot  in  "Onr  American  Cousin." 
Returning  to  London,  he  filled  important  engagements  at  the  Gaiety  and 
Vaudeville  Theatres.  His  appearance  at  the  Lyceum  Theatre,  Lon- 
don, followed.  Here,  after  his  friend,  Manager  Bateman,  had  staked  and 
lost  everything  on  "Fanchctte,"  Mr.  Irving  advised  the  production  of 
"The  Bells,"  which  restored  the  fortunes  of  the  house,  and  was  the 
beginning  of  a  scries  of  artistic  and  financial  successes,  both  for  the 
management  and  the  leading  actor.  On  the  death  of  Mr.  Bateman,  and 
the  withdrawal  of  his  widow  from  the  lesseeship  of  the  theatre,  Mr.  Irving 
entered  upon  management.  One  day  I  hope  to  tell  the  stoiy  of 
his  life  and  adventures.  Placidly  as  the  river  of  his  fortunes  may 
seem  to  have  flowed  since  he  became  lessee  of  the  Lyceum,  in  October, 
1878,  the  incidents  of  his  early  struggles  arc  not  more  interesting  than  his' 
managerial  battles  and  victories  in  these  latter  days  of  London.  Pending 
a  more  complete  biography,  the  sketch  entitled  "  Henry  Irving,"  by  Austin 
Brereton,  may  be  consulted  with  advantage;  its  data  are  well  founded, 
and  its  figui-es  are  correct. 


AT  HOME. 


8 


America  was  at  this  time  a  far-ofF  country,  about 
which  travellers  told  Irving  strange  stories.  I  recall 
many  a  pleasant  evening  in  the  Beefsteak  Club  room, 
of  the  Lyceum  Theatre,  when  famous  citizens  of  the 
United  States,  actors  more  particularly,  have  Bn,t  at  his 
round  table,  and  smoked  the  Havannah  of  peace  and 
pleasant  memories :  Booth,  Barrett,  Boucicault,  Mc- 
Cullough,  Raymond,  Florence,  and  others  of  their  craft ; 
Generals  Horace  Porter,  Fairchild,  Merritt,  Mr.  Sam. 
Ward,  Mr.  Rufus  Hatch,  Mr.  James  R.  Osgood,  Mr. 
Hurlbert,  Mr.  Crawford,  Col.  Buck,  Mr.  Dan  Dough- 
erty, and  many  others.  They  all  promised  him  a 
kindly  reception  and  a  great  success. 

"I  question,  however,"  said  an  English  guest,  taking 
the  other  side,  as  Englishmen  love  to  do,  if  only  for  the 
sake  of  argument,  "  if  America  will  quite  care  for  the 
naturalness  of  your  effects,  the  neutral  tones  of  some 
of  your  stage  pictures,  the  peaceful  character,  if  I  may 
80  style  it,  of  your  representations.  They  like  breadth 
and  color  and  show  ;  they  are  accustomed  to  the  mar- 
vellous and  the  gigantic  in  nature  ;  they  expect  on  the 
stage  some  sort  of  interpretation  of  these  things,  — great 
rivers,  lofty  mountains,  and  the  startling  colors  of  their 
fall  tints.  Your  gentle  meads  of  Hampton,  the  poetic 
grace  of  "  Charles  the  First,"  the  simplicity  of  your 
loveliest  sets,  and  the  quiet  dignity  of  your  Shylock, 
will>  I  fear,  seem  tame  to  them." 

"Human  nature,  I  fancy,"  Irving  responded,  "is  the 
same  all  the  world  over,  and  I  have  played  to  many 
Americans  in  this  very  theatre.  .You  will  say,  per- 
haps, that  they  will  accept  here  iu  London  what  they 


1.) 


4  IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 

would  not  care  for  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic. 
You  would  say  we  are   an   old   country,  with   fairly 
settled  tastes  in  art,  a  calm  atmosphere,  a  cultivated 
knowledge ;   aiid  that  possibly  what  we,  in  our  nar-       {fi 
rower  ways,   reg.rd   as  a  subtilty   of  art,  they  may       |ii 
not  see.     That  may  be  so,  though  some  of  their  hu-      ;J 
mor  is  subtle  enouii^h,  and  the  best  of  it  leaves  a  ffreat       M 
deal  to  the  imagination.    I  know  many  persons,  Amer-       2,p; 
lean  and  English,  have  talked  to  me  in  your  strain ;        :v 
yet  I  never  saw  quieter  or  more  delicate  acting  than 
in   Jefferson's  Rip  Van  Winkle.      As  I  said  before, 
human  nature  is  ever  the  same:  it  loves  and  hates,  it 
quarrels   and  murders,   it   honors   valor,  sympathizes 
with  the  unfortunate,  and  deliorhts  in  seeinfj  human 
passions  delineated  on  the  stage.     Moreover,  are  not 
the  Americans,  after  all,  our  own  flesh  and  blood?    I 
never  think  of  them  in  the  sense  of  foreigners,  as  one 
does  of  the  French  and  Germans,  and  the  other  Euro- 
pean nations  who  do  not  speak  our  language ;  and  I 
have  yet  to  learn  that  there  is  any  difference  between 
us  so  marked  that  the  jangle  of  "The  Bells,"  shall 
not  stir  their  imagination  as  much  as  the  sorrows  of 
Charles   shall   move   their   hearts,   and   the    story   of 
Louis  heighten  their  pulses.     We  shall  see.      I  can- 
not exactly  say  that  my  soul's  in  arms  and  eager  for 
the  fray,  but  I  have  no  doubt  about  the  result.    That 
love  of  breadth,  of  largeness,  of  color,  you  talk  of, 
should  go  hand  in  hand  with  a  catholic  taste,  devoid 
of  littleness  and  combined  with  a  liberal  criticism  that 
is  not  always  looking  for  spots  on  the  sun." 
,   "You  are  not  nervous,  then,  as  to  your  reception?" 


AT  HOME. 


"No,  I  am  sure  it  mil  be  kindly;  and,  for  their 
criticism,  I  think  it  will  be  just.  Thei'^  is  the  same 
honesty  of  purpose  and  intention  in  American  as  in 
English  critic'sm,  and,  above  all,  there  is  tie  great 
play-going  public,  which  is  very  much  the  B9^^1Q  frank, 
generous,  candid  audience  all  over  the  world." 

"  But  there  is  the  American  interviewer  !  You  have 
r.ot  yet  encountered  that  interesting  individual." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  have." 

"Has  he  been  here,  then?" 

"Yes  ;  not  in  his  war-paint,  nor  with  his  six-shooter 
and  bowie-knife,  as  he  goes  about  in  Raymond's  Texan 
country,  yet  an  interviewer  still." 

"  And  you  found  him  not  disagreeable  ? "  asked  the 
travelled  guest. 

"I  found  him  well  informed  and  quite  a  pleasant 
fellow." 

"Ah,  but  he  was  here  under  your  own  control, 
probably  smoking  a  cigar  in  your  own  room.  Wait 
until  he  boards  the  steamer  off  New  York.  Then  you 
will  see  the  sort  of  person  he  is,  with  his  string  of  ques- 
tions more  personal  than  the  fire  of  an  Old  Bailey 
lawyer  at  a  hostile  witness  under  cross-examination. 
The  Inquisition  of  old  is  not  in  the  race  with  these  gen- 
tlemen, except  that  the  law,  even  in  America,  does  not 
allow  them  to  put  you  to  physical  torture,  though  they 
make  up  for  that  check  upon  their  liberty  by  the  mental 
pain  they  can  inflict  upon  you.  Apart  from  the  inter- 
viewers proper,  I  have  known  reporters  to  disguise 
themselves  as  waiters,  that  they  may  pry  into  your 
secrets  and  report  upon  your  most  trivial  actions." 


6  IMPBESSI0N8  OF  AMERICA. 

"You  have  evidently  suffered,"  said  Irving. 

"  No,  not  I ;  but  I  have  known  those  who  have. 
Nothing  ia  sacred  from  the  prying  eyes  and  unscru- 
pulous pens  of  these  men.  'You  smile,  old  friend,'  to 
quote  your  'Louis  the  Eleventh,'  but  I  am  not  exag- 
gerating nor  setting  down  aught  in  malice.  You  will 
see  I     The  interviewers  will  turn  you  inside  out." 

"  You  don't  say  so  I  Well,  that  will  be  a  new  sen- 
sation, at  all  events,"  answered  Irving;  and,  when  our 
friend  had  left,  he  remarked,  "I  wonder  if  Americans, 
when  they  visit  this  country,  go  home  and  exaggerate 
our  peculiarities  as  much  as  some  of  our  own  coun- 
trymen, after  a  first  trip  across  the  Atlantic,  evidently 
exaggerate  theirs." 

"  There  are  many  travellers  who,  in  relating  their 
experiences,  think  it  necessary  to  accentuate  them 
with  exaggerated  color ;  and  then  we  have  to  make 
allowances  for  each  man's  individuality." 

"How  much  certain  of  our  critical  friends  make  of 
that  same  '  individuality,' by  the  way,  when  they  choose 
to  call  it '  mannerism '  I  The  interviewers,  I  suppose,  will 
have  a  good  deal  to  say  on  that  subject." 

"English  papers  and  American  correspondents  have 
given  them  plenty  of  points  for  personal  criticism." 

"That  is  true.  They  will  be  clever  if  they  can 
find  anything  new  to  say  in  that  direction.  Well,  I 
don't  think  it  is  courage,  and  I  know  it  is  not  vanity ; 
yet  I  feel  quite  happy  about  this  American  tour." 

A  week  or  two  later  and  Irving  spoke  the  sentiments 
of  his  heart  upon  this  subject,  at  the  farewell  banquet 


!    il 
ill 


AT  HOME,         '     ^  f 

given  to  him  by  artistic,  literary,  legal,  eocial,  and 
journalistic  London,  under  the  presidency  of  Lord 
Chief  Justice  Coleridge  ;  and  it  will  be  fitting,  I  trust, 
to  close  these  preliminary  paragraphs  with  his  charac- 
teristic and  touching  good-by  :  — 

"My  Lord  Chief  Justice,  n.^  lords  and  gentle- 
men, —  I  cannot  conceive  a  greater  honor  entering 
into  the  life  of  any  man  than  the  honor  you  have  paid 
me  by  assembling  here  to-night.  To  look  around  this 
room  and  scan  the  faces  of  my  distinguished  hosts 
would  stir  to  its  depths  a  colder  nature  than  mine.  It 
is  not  in  my  power,  my  lords  and  gentlemen,  to  thank 
you  for  the  compliment  you  have  to-night  paid   me. 

"  *  The  friends  thou  hast,  and  their  adoption  tried, 
Grapple  them  to  thy  soul  with  hooks  of  steel.' 

"Never  before  have  I  so  strongly  felt  the  magic 
of  those  words ;  but  you  will  remember  it  is  also 
said,  in  the  same  sentence,  *  Give  thy  thoughts  no 
tongue.*  (Laughter.)  And  gladly,  had  it  been 
possible,  would  I  have  obeyed  that  wise  injunction 
to-night.  (Renewed  laughter.)  The  actor  is  pro- 
foundly influenced  by  precedent,  and  I  cannot  forget 
that  many  of  my  predecessors  have  been  nerved  by 
farewell  banquets  for  the  honor  which  awaited  them 
on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic ;  but  this  occasion 
I  regard  as  much  more  than  a  compliment  to  myself, 
— I  regard  it  as  a  tribute  to  the  art  which  I  am 
proud  to  serve —  (Cheers) ,  — and  I  believe  that  feeling 
will  be  shared  by  the  profession  to  which  you  have 


8 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMEHICA. 


assembled  to  do  honor.  (Cheers.)  The  time  has  long 
gone  by  when  tliere  was  any  need  to  apologize  for  the 
actor's  calling.  (Hearl  Hear!)  The  world  can  no 
more  exist  without  the  drama  than  it  can  without  its 
sister  art,  —  music.  The  stage  gives  the  readiest  re- 
sponse to  the  demand  of  human  nature  to  be  trans- 
ported out  of  itself  into  the  realms  of  the  ideal,  —  not 
that  all  our  ideas  on  the  stage  are  realized  ;  none  but 
the  artist  knows  how  immeasurably  ho  may  fall  short  of 
his  aim  or  his  conception ;  but  to  have  an  ideal  in  art, 
and  to  strive  through  one's  life  to  embody  it,  may  be  a 
passion  to  the  actor,  as  it  may  be  to  the  poet.  (Cheers. ) 
Your  lordship  has  spoken  most  eloquently  of  my  career. 
Possessed  of  a  generous  mind  and  a  highly  judicial 
faculty,  your  lordship  has  been  to-night,  I  fear,  more 
generous  than  judicial.  But,  if  I  have  in  any  way  de- 
served commendation,  I  am  proud  that  it  is  as  an  actor 
that  I  have  won  it.  (Cheers.)  As  the  director  of  a 
theatre  my  experience  has  been  short,  but  as  an  actor 
I  have  been  before  the  London  public  for  seventeen 
years  ;  and  on  one  thing  I  am  sure  you  will  all  agree,  — 
that  no  actor  or  manager  has  ever  received  from  that 
public  more  generous  and  ungrudging  encouragement 
and  support.  (Cheers.)  Concerning  our  visit  to 
America  I  need  hardly  say  that  I  am  looking  forward 
to  it  with  no  common  pleasure.  It  has  often  been  an 
ambition  with  Encjlish  actors  to  cjain  the  o;ood-will  of 
the  English-speaking  race,  —  a  good-will  which  is  right 
heartily  reciprocated  towards  our  American  fellow- 
workers,  when  they  gratify  us  by  sojourning  here. 
(Cheers.)     Your  God-speed  would  alone  assure  me  a 


t 


f 

s 


J. 


■% 


AT  HOME. 


9 


ir,  more 


hearty  welcome  in  any  land ;  but  I  am  not  going 
amongst  strangers,  —  I  am  going  amongst  friends 
(Cheers),  —  and  when  I,  for  the  first  time,  touch 
American  ground,  I  shall  receive  many  a  grip  of  the 
hand  from  men  whose  friendship  I  am  proud  to  possess. 
(Ciiecrs.)  Concerning  our  expedition  the  American 
people  will  no  doubt  exercise  an  independent  judgment, 
—  a  prejudice  of  theirs  and  a  habit  of  long-standing,  — 
(Laughter),  —  as  your  lordship  has  reminded  us,  by  the 
fact  that  to-day  is  the  fourth  of  July,  —  an  annivcrsar}'- 
rapidly  becoming  an  English  institution.  Your  lord- 
ship is  doubtless  aware,  as  to-night  has  so  happily 
proved,  that  the  stage  has  reckoned  amongst  its 
stanchest  supporters  many  great  and  distinguished 
lawyers.  There  are  many  lawyers,  I  am  told,  in 
America, —  (Laughter),  —  and  as  I  am  sure  that  they 
all  deserve  to  be  judges,  I  am  in  hopes  that  they  will 
materially  help  me  to  gain  a  favorable  verdict  from  the 
American  people.  (Cheers  and  laughter.)  I  have 
given  but  poor  expression  to  my  sense  of  the  honor  you 
have  conferred  upon  me,  and  upon  the  comrades  as- 
sociated witli  me  in  this  our  enterprise,  —  an  enterprise 
which,  I  hope,  will  favorably  show  the  method  and 
discipline  of  a  company  of  English  actors  ;  on  their 
behalf  I  thank  you,  and  I  also  thank  you  on  behalf  of 
the  lady  who  has  so  adorned  the  Lyceum  stage,  — 
(Cheers),  —  and  to  whose  rare  gifts  your  lordship  has 
paid  so  just  and  gracious  a  tribute.  (Cheers.)  The 
climax  of  the  favor  extended  to  me  by  my  countrymen 
has  been  reached  to-night.  You  have  set  upon  me  a 
burden  of  responsibility,  —  a  burden  which  I  gladly  and 


10 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMEItlCA. 


proudly  bear.  The  memory  of  to-night  will  be  to  mo 
a  sacred  thing,  —  a  memory  wliich  will,  throughout  my 
life,  be  ever  treasured  ;  a  memory  which  will  stimulate 
me  to  further  endeavor,  and  encourage  me  to  loftier 
aim.      (Loud  and  continued  cheers.) 


^!l' 


n. 

No  man  was  ever  more  written  of  or  talked  about 
in  America  than  Henry  Irving ;  probably  no  man  was 
ever  more  misrepresented  as  to  his  art  and  his  life.  A 
monster,  according  to  his  enemies ;  an  angel,  if  you 
took  the  verdict  of  his  friends ;  he  was  a  mystery  to 
untravellcd  American  journalists,  and  an  enigma  to  the 
great  play-going  public  of  the  American  cities.  They 
were  told  that  people  cither  loved  or  hated  him  at  first 
sight.  American  tourists  even  carried  home  contradic- 
tory reports  of  him,  though  the  majority  were  enthusi- 
astic in  praise  of  him  as  an  actor  and  as  a  man.  The 
American  newspaper  correspondent  is  naturally  a  trifle 
more  sensational  in  the  stvle  of  his  work  than  his  English 
colleague,  because  his  editor  favors  graphic  writing, 
entertaining  chronicles,  picturesque  descriptions.  Then 
the  sub-editor  or  compiler  of  news  from  the  foreign  ex- 
changes looks  out  for  "  English  personals,"  gossip 
about  the  Queen,  notes  on  the  Prince  of  Wales,  out- 
of-the-way  criticisms  of  actors  and  public  persons  of 
all  classes  ;  and  so  every  outre  thing  that  has  been  pub- 
lished about  Irving  in  England  has  found  its  way  into 
the  ubiquitous  press  of  America.  Added  to  this  pub- 
licity, private  correspondence  has  also  dealt  largely  with 


AT  HOME. 


11 


)e  to  mo 
liout  my 
timulatc 
o  loftier 


him,  his  work,  his  manners,  his  habits ;  for  every 
American  who  travels  writes  letters  home  to  liis  family 
and  often  to  his  local  paper,  and  many  English  people 
who  have  visited  America  keep  up  a  pleasant  epistolary 
communication  with  their  good  friends  in  the  New 
World. 


id  about 
nan  was 
life.     A 
,  if  you 
stery  to 
la  to  the 
.     They 
n  at  first 
tntradic- 
enthusi- 
The 
a  trifle 
English 
writing, 
Then 
3ign  ex- 
gossip 
les,  out- 
sons  of 
en  pub- 
ray  into 
is  pub- 
ily  with 


ni. 

Being  in  New  York  ahead  of  Mr.  Irving^s  arrival,  I 
found  much  of  the  curious  fiction  of  wliich  gossip  had 
made  him  the  hero,  crystallized  mto  definite  assertions, 
that  were  accepted  as  undi8j)utcd  facts.  A  day's  Sfril 
from  the  Empire  city,  in  a  pretty  Eastern  villa,  I  dis- 
covered the  London  gossip-monger's  influence  rampant. 
But  if  a  prominent  critic  in  London  could  publicly 
credit  IMr.  Irving's  success  as  an  actor  to  his  hospitable 
dispensation  of  "chicken  and  champagne,"  one  need  not 
be  surprised  that  ordinary  gossips  should  draw  as  lib- 
erally on  their  imagination  for  illustrations  of  his  social 
popularity.  A  leading  figure  in  the  world  of  art,  and 
a  person  of  distinction  in  Vanity  Fair,  it  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at  that  Jealousy  and  Mrs.  Grundy,  standing 
outside  his  orbit,  should  invent  many  startling  stories 
about  him.  I  have  not  exaggerated  the  following 
conversation,  and  I  am  glad  to  use  it  here,  not  only 
.as  illustrative  of  the  singular  misrepresentations  of 
Irving's  life  and  habits,  but  to  bind  up  in  this  volume 
a  sketch  of  the  actor  and  the  man  which  has  the  merit 
of  being  eminently  true,  and  at  the  same  time  not  in- 
appropriate to  these  pages. 

"  Lives  in  chambers  I  "  exclaimed  an  American  lady, 


:iir 


12 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


during   an    after-dinner    conversation    in    a    pleasant 
eastern   home.     "I  thought   he  owned  a  lovely  pal- 


ace. 


j> 


"Indeed;  where,  madam?"  I  asked,  "in  Utopia?" 

"No,  sir;  on  the  banks  of  your  Thames  river.  A 
little  English  friend  of  mine  told  me  so,  and  described 
the  furnishing  of  it.  I  understand  that  it  is  as  splen- 
did as  Claude  Melnotte's  by  the  I^ake  of  Como." 

"And  as  real?"  ^- 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean  ;  but,  if  what  she  says 
is  true,  it  is  wickeder,  any  way.  You  do  not  say  that 
it  is  all  false  about  his  banquets  to  the  aristocracy,  his 
royal  receptions  ?  What  about  the  Prince  of  Wales, 
then,  and  Lord  Beaconsfield  and  Mr.  Gladstone  and 
the  Poet  Laureate  visiting  him?  And  his  garden  par- 
ties and  the  illuminations  at  night,  parterres  of  flowers 
mixed  up  with  colored  lamps,  his  collections  of  rhodo- 
dendrons and  his  military  bands  ?  " 

"Were  you  ever  at  a  Botanical  Fete  in  Regent's 
Park?"  I  asked. 

"I  have  never  crossed  the  Atlantic." 

"Your  little  English  friend  evidently  knows  the 
Botanical  well." 

"  She  is  acquainted  with  everything  and  everybody  in 
London.  I  wish  she  were  here  now.  Perhaps  she 
knows  a  little  more  than  some  of  Mr.  Tiying's  friends 
care  to  admit." 

"  Does  she  know  Mr.  Irvinj?  ?  " 

"  She  knows  his  house." 

"By  the  Lake  of  Como?" 

"No,  sir;  by  the  Thames." 


AT  HOME. 


13 


"  One  comes  from  home  to  hear  news.  Will  you 
not  tell  us  all  about  it,  then?" 

"No,  I  will  not.  I  think  you  are  positively  rude ; 
but  that  is  like  you  English.  There,  I  beg  your  par- 
don ;  you  made  me  say  it.  But,  seriously  now,  is  not 
Mr.  Irving  as  rich  as  —  **  mv 

"  Claude  Melnotte?"  V   -  t 

"No;  Croesus,  or  Vanderbilt,  or  Mackay?  And 
does  he  not  live  in  that  palace,  and  have  crowds  of  ser- 
vants, and  visit  with  the  court  and  the  aristocracy? 
Why,  I  read  in  the  papers  myself,  quite  lately,  of  an 
estate  he  had  bought  near,  let  me  see, — is  there  such  a 
place  as  Hammersmith  ?  "  . 

"Yes."  -  ^   - 

"  Is  that  on  the  Thames  ?  " 

"Yes,  more  or  less." 

"Well,  then,  is  that  true?  More  or  less,  I  sup- 
pose. You  are  thinking  how  inquisitive  I  am.  But 
you  started  the  subject." 

"Did  I?" 

"  You  said  he  lives  in  chambers." 

"I  answered  your  own  question." 

"  Ah  I  "  she  said,  laughing  merrily,  "  now  I  know  ray 
little  English  friend  spoke  the  truth,  because  I  remem- 
ber she  said  there  was  a  mystery  about  iSlr.  Irving's 
lovely  house ;  that  he  only  receives  a  certain  princely 
and  lordly  set  there.  How  could  she  have  described  it 
if  she  had  not  seen  it?  A  baronial  castle,  a  park, 
lovely  gardens,  great  dogs  lying  about  on  the  lawns, 
wainscoted  chambers,  a  library  full  of  scarce  books 
and  costly  bric-a-brac^  Oriental  rugs,  baths,  stained- 


u 


JMFBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


glass  windows,  suits  of  armor,  and  a  powerful  bell  in 
a  turret  to  call  the  servants  in  to  meals." 

"  Beautiful  I  But  if  there  is  a  mystery  about  it, 
what  of  those  gorgeous  receptions  ?  " 

"Oh,  don't  ask  me  questions.  It  is  I  who  am  seek- 
ing for  information.  There  is  no  public  person  in  the 
world  just  at  this  moment  in  whom  I  take  a  deeper 
interest.  If  he  were  not  coming  to  America  I  should 
have  been  obliged  to  go  to  London,  if  only  to  see  what 
you  call  a  first  night  at  the  Lyceum.  We  read  all 
about  these  things.  We  are  kept  well  informed  by  our 
newspaper  correspondents — "  ,,  .,       .   .  ;   ,  v,.;. 

"And  your  little  English  friend."  -  ..:  >     ;<>;';< 

"Yes,  she  writes  to  me  quite  often."  ,  .i  v   ■    ,x 

"Well,  now  I  will  tell  you  the  truth  about  that  palace 
on  the  Thames,"  I  said.  . ,      .  v     "> 

"  Ah  !  he  confesses,"  exclaimed  the  bright  little  lady, 
whose  friends  suspect  her  of  writing  more  than  one  of 
the  famous  American  novels.      .    ^      ,,♦  -  i,  '  i 

An  interested  and  interesting  group  of  ladies  and 
gentlemen  brought  their  chairs  closer  to  the  conversa- 
tional centre  of  the  company. >  ^  . 

"A  few  years  ago,  Irving  and  a  friend,  strolling 
through  the  purlieus  of  Brook  Green  (a  decayed  village 
that  has  been  swallowed  up  by  the  progress  of  West 
End,  London),  towards  Hammersmith,  saw  a  house 
to  be  sold.  It  was  low  and  dilapidated,  but  it  had 
an  old-fashioned  garden,  and  the  lease  was  offered  at  a 
small  sum.  Irving  knew  the  house,  and  he  had  a  mind 
to  examine  its  half-ruined  rooms.  He  did  so,  and  con- 
cluded his  investigation  by  buying  the  lease.     It  cost  him 


AT  HOME. 


15 


belli 


111 


)Out   it, 

m  seek- 
11  in  the 
deeper 
^  should 
ee  what 
•ead  all 
I  by  our 

4.         .-,1       ^•.  ■,  _ 


i  palace 

e  lady, 
one  of 

ea  and 
aversa- 

roUin^r 
village 
West 
house 
it  had 
d  at  a 
I  mind 
d  con- 
st him 


about  half  the  money  you  would  pay  for  an  ordinary 
house  off  Fifth  avenue,  in  New  York ;  less  than  you 
would  pay  for  a  house  in  Remsen  street,  Brooklyn ; 
in  Michigan  avenue,  Chicago ;  or  in  Commonwealth 
avenue,  Boston.  Since  then  it  has  been  one  of  his 
few  sources  of  amusement  to  lay  out  its  garden,  to 
restore  the  old  house  and  make  it  habitable.  It  is  a 
typical  English  home,  with  low  red  roofs,  ancient 
trees,  oaken  stairs,  and  a  garden  with  old-fashioned 
flowers  and  fruit  in  it ;  but  it  is  the  home  of  a  yeo- 
man rather  than  a  prince,  the  home  of  a  Cincinnatus 
rather  than  the  palace  of  an  Alcibiades.  The  staff  of 
servants  consists  of  a  gardener  and  his  wife,  and  I  have 
been  present  at  several  of  the  owner's  receptions.  The 
invitation  was  given  in  this  wise  :  '  I  am  going  to  drive 
to  the  Grange,  on  Sunday  afternoon,  —  will  you  bring 
your  wife,  and  have  a  cup  of  tea? '  And  that  described 
the  feast ;  but  Irving,  looking  at  his  gilliflowers  and 
tulips,  watching  the  gambols  of  his  dogs,  and  discussing 
between  whiles  the  relative  cost  of  carpets  and  India 
matting,  illustrated  the  truth  of  the  philosophy,  that 
there  is  real  recreation  and  rest  in  a  mere  change  of  oc- 
cupation. Those  persons  who  tell  you  that  Irving's 
tastes  are  not  simple,  his  private  life  an  honor  to  him, 
and  his  success  the  result  of  earnestness  of  purpose, 
clearness  of  aim,  deep  study  and  hard  work,  neither 
know  him  nor  understand  how  great  a  battle  men  fight 
in  England,  who  cut  their  way  upwards  from  the 
ranks,  to  stand  with  the  highest  at  head-quarters." 

Quite  a  round  of  applause  greeted  this  plain  story. 

"  Why,  my  dear  sir,"  exclaimed  my  original  inter- 


16 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


locutor,  "  I  am  right  glad  to  hear  the  truth.  Well, 
well,  and  that  is  Mr.  Irving's  real  home,  ia  it?  But  I 
thought  you  said  he  lives  in  chambers." 

"  One  day  he  hopes  to  furnish  and  enjoy  the  sim- 
plicity and  quiet  of  that  cottage  in  a  garden,  four  miles 
from  his  theatre ;  but  he  still  lives,  where  ho  has  lived 
for  a  dozen  years  or  more,  in  very  unpretentious  rooms 
in  the  heart  of  London."  •  ',      ; 

And  now,  courteous  reader,  come  straightway  into 
this  little  company  of  the  friendly  and  the  curious,  and 
I  will  show  you  where  Henry  Irving  lived  until  he  set 
sail  for  America,  and  you  shall  lieaj  him  talk  about 
his  art  and  his  work ;  for  my  good  friend,  the  editor 
of  "Harper's  Magazine,"  commissioned  me  to  describe 
the  famous  English  actor  at  home,  and  here  is  the 
result :  — 


TV. 

At  the  corner  of  Grafton  street,  where  the  traffic 
of  a  famous  West  End  artery  ebbs  and  flows  among 
picture  exhibitions  and  jewelry  stores,  lives  the  most 
popular  actor  of  his  time.  It  is  a  mysterious-looking 
house.  The  basement  is  occupied  by  a  trunk  store. 
From  the  first  floor  to  the  top  are  Mr.  Henry  Irving's 
chambers.  They  present  from  the  outside  a  series  of 
dingy,  half-blind  windows  that  suggest  no  prospect 
of  warmth  or  cheer.  "  Fitting  abode  of  the  spirit 
of  tragic  gloom  1 "  you  might  well  exclaim,  standing 
on  the  threshold.  You  shall  enter  with  me,  if  you 
will,  to  correct  your  first  impressions,  and  bear  testi- 
mony to  the  fact  that  appearances  are  often  deceptive. 


\ 


AT  HOME. 


17 


Well, 
But  I 

:he  sim- 
ur  miles 
las  lived 
18  rooms 

ray  into 
)us,  and 
il  he  set 
k  about 
e  editor 
describe 
s  is  the 


3  traffic 

among 

le  most 

looking 

:  store. 

rving's 

rics  of 

rospect 

spirit 

anding 

if  you 

p  testi- 

ptive. 


This  sombre  door,  the  first  on  the  left  as  we  enter 
Grafton  street  from  Bond  street,  leads  to  his  chambers. 
Two  flights  of  stairs  (not  bright,  as  a  Paris  staircase), 
not  with  the  sunlight  upon  the  carpet,  as  in  New  York, 
but  darkened  with  the  shadows  of  a  London  atmosphere, 
—  and  we  enter  his  general  room.  With  the  hum  of  the 
West  End  buzzing  at  the  windows,  the  colored  glass 
of  which  shuts  out  what  little  sunlight  falls  there,  the 
apartment  is  characteristic  of  a  great  artist  and  a  great 
city.  The  mantel-piece  recalls  the  ancient  fashion  of 
old  English  mansions.  It  is  practically  an  oak  cabi- 
net, with  a  silver  shield  as  the  centre-piece.  On  the 
opposite  side  of  the  room  is  a  well-stocked  bookcase, 
surmounted  by  a  raven  that  carries  one's  thoughts  to 
Poe  and  his  sombre  story.  On  tables  here  and  there 
are  materials  for  letter-writing,  and  evidence  of  much 
correspondence,  though  one  of  the  actor's  social  sins  is 
said  to  be  the  tardiness  with  which  he  answers  let- 
ters. The  truth  is,  the  many  pressing  claims  on  his 
time  do  not  enable  him  to  act  always  upon  the  late 
Duke  of  Wellington's  well-known  principle  of  imme- 
diately replying  to  every  letter  that  is  addressed  to 
him.  A  greater  philosopher  than  His  Grace  said 
many  letters  answer  themselves  if  you  let  them  alone, 
and  I  should  not  wonder  if  Irving  finds  much  truth  in 
the  axiom.  Bric-a-hrac^  historic  relics,  theatrical  prop- 
erties, articles  of  virtu ^  lie  about  in  admired  disorder. 
Here  is  Edmund  Kean's  sword,  which  was  presented  to 
Irving  on  the  first  night  of  his  Richard  III.  by  that 
excellent  and  much-respected  artist  Mr.  Chippendale, 
who  had  acted  with  Edmund  Kean,  and  was  his  per- 


18 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


in  I  ! 


III 


was  his  personal  friend.  In  a  glass  case  near  this 
precious  treasure  is  a  ring  that  belonged  to  David 
Garrick.  It  is  an  exquisite  setting  of  a  miniature  of 
Shakespeare.  This  was  given  to  Irving  by  the  Baron- 
ess Burdett-Coutts .  In  a  cabinet  near  one  of  the  w^in- 
dows,  the  order  of  the  George,  which  Edmund  Kean 
wore  in  "Richard  III.,"  and  his  prompt-book  of 
"Othello."  Close  by  are  three  marble  busts, — one 
of  Young,  with  a  faded  wreath  upon  its  brow  ;  another 
of  Mrs.  Harriet  Brown,  "a  most  dear  and  valued 
friend"  (to  use  his  own  words)  ;  and  the  third,  of 
Ellen  Terry,  sculptured  by  Irving's  friend,  Brodie, — 
a  portrait  of  Rossi  (presented  by  the  actor)  as  Nero ; 
a  photograph  of  Charles  Dickens  (presented  by  Miss 
Mary  Dickens) ,  —  the  one  by  Gurney,  of  New  York, 
which  the  great  author  himself  thought  an  excellent 
portrait ;  medallions  of  Emile  Devrient  and  John  Her- 
chell  (the  latter  a  gift  from  Herchell's  daughter)  ;  and 
a  sketch  of  a  favorite  Scotch  terrier  (very  well  known 
to  his  friends  as  "  Charlie  "  ) ,  which  during  the  last  year 
or  two  has  become  his  most  constant  companion  at 
home  and  at  the  theatre.  The  adjoining  room  con- 
tinues the  collection  of  the  actor's  art  treasures,  —  not 
the  mere  connoisseur's  museum  of  articles  of  virtu, 
but  things  which  have  a  personal  value  and  a  special 
history  associated  with  the  art  their  owner  loves. 

It  is  a  frank  smile  that  greets  us  as  the  actor  enters 
and  extends  his  long,  thin  hand.  I  know  no  one  whose 
hand  is  so  suggestive  of  nervous  energy  and  artistic 
capacity  as  Irving's.  It  is  in  perfect  harmony  with  the 
long,  expressive  face,  the  notably  ajsthetic  figure  !         v 


AT  HOME. 


19 


"  You  want  to  talk  shop,"  he  says,  striding  about 
the  room,  with  his  hands  in  the  pockets  of  his  loose 
gray  coat.  "Well,  with  all  my  heart,  if  you  think  it 
useful  and  interesting." 

"I  do." 

"  May  I  select  the  subject? " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  I  would  like  to  go  back  to  one  we  touched 
upon  at  your  own  suggestion  some  months  ago." 

"  An  actor  on  his  audiences  ?  " 

"  Yes.  The  subject  is  a  good  one  ;  it  interests  me, 
and  in  that  brief  anonymous  newspaper  sketch  of  a 
year  ago  you  did  little  more  than  indicate  the  points 
we  discussed.  Let  us  see  if  we  cannot  revive  and 
complete  it." 

"Agreed.  I  will  'interview'  you,  then,  as  they  say 
in  America." 

"By  all  means,"  replied  my  host,  handing  me  a 
cigar,  and  settling  himself  down  in  an  easy-chair  by 
the  fire.     "I  am  ready." 

"Well,  then,  as  I  think  I  have  said  before  when  on 
this  subject,  there  has  always  appeared  to  me  some- 
thing phenomenal  in  the  mutual  understanding  that 
exists  between  you  and  your  audiences ;  it  argues  an 
active  sympathy  and  confidence  on  both  sides." 

"  That  ifs  exactly  what  I  think  exists.  In  presence 
of  my  audience  I  feel  as  safe  and  contented  as  when 
sitting  down  with  an  old  friend." 

"I  have  seen  Lord  Beaconsfield,  when  he  was  Mr. 
Disraeli,  rise  in  the  House  of  Commons,  and  begin  a 
speech    'n   a   vein   and   manner   evidently   considered 


20 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


p: 

lil|!i! 


beforehand,  which,  proving  at  the  moment  out  of 
harmony  with  the  feelings  of  the  house,  he  has  entirely 
altered  from  his  original  idea  to  suit  the  immediate 
mood  and  temper  of  his  audience.  Now,  sympathetic 
as  you  are  with  your  audience,  have  you,  under  their 
influence  in  the  development  of  a  new  character,  ever 
altered  your  first  idea  during  the  course  of  the  repre- 
sentation ?  " 

"  You  open  up  an  interesting  train  of  thought,"  he 
answered.  "Except  once,  I  have  never  altered  my 
original  idea  under  the  circumstances  you  suggest; 
that  was  in  '  Vanderdecken,'  and  I  changed  the  last 
scene.  I  can  always  tell  when  the  audience  is  with 
me.  It  was  not  with  me  in  '  Vanderdecken ' ;  neither 
was  it  entirely  on  the  first  night  of  'Hamlet,'  which  is, 
perhaps,  curious,  considering  my  subsequent  success. 
On  the  first  night  I  felt  that  the  audience  did  not  go 
with  me  until  the  first  meeting  with  Ophelia,  when 
they  changed  toward  me  entirely.  But  as  night 
succeeded  night,  my  Hamlet  grew  in  their  estimation. 
I  could  feel  it  all  the  time,  and  now  I  know  that  they 
like  it,  —  that  they  are  with  me  heart  and  soul.  I  will 
tell  you  a  curious  thing  about  my  '  Hamlet '  audience. 
It  is  the  most  interesting  audience  I  play  to.  For  any 
other  piece  there  is  a  difficulty  in  getting  the  people 
seated  by  half-past  eight.  For  *  Hamlet'  the  house 
is  full  and  quiet,  and  waiting  for  the  curtain  to  go  up, 
by  half-past  seven.  On  the  first  night  the  curtain 
dropped  at  a  quarter  to  one." 

"  In  what  part  do  you  feel  most  at  home  with  your 
audience,  and  most  certain  of  them  ?  " 


AT  HOME. 


21 


"Well,  in  Hamlet,"  he  replied,  thoughtfully. 
"  Has  that  been  your  greatest  pecuniary  success  ?  " 
"Yes."    ■■  -'-''■■ 

"  What  were  the  two  unprecedented  runs  of  *  Ham- 
let'?" 

"  The  first  was  two  hundred  nights  ;  the  second,  one 
hundred  and  seven ;  and  in  the  country  I  have  often 
I)layed  it  ten  times  out  of  a  twelve  nights'  engagement. 
But,  as  we  have  moved  into  this  line  of  thought  about 
audiences,  it  should  be  remembered  that,  with  the 
exception  of  two  or  three  performances,  I  had  never 
played  Hamlet  before  that  first  night  at  the  Lyceum. 
Indeed,  so  far  as  regards  what  is  called  the  claasic  and 
legitimate  drama,  my  successes,  such  as  they  were,  had 
been  made  outside  it,  really  in  eccentric  comedy.  As  a 
rule,  actors  who  liave  appeared  for  the  first  time  in  Lon- 
don in  such  parts  as  Richard  HI.,  Macbeth,  Hamlet, 
and  Othello,  have  played  them  previously  for  years  in 
the  country  ;  and  here  comes  a  point  about  my  audiences. 
They  knew  this,  and  I  am  sure  they  estimated  the  per- 
formance accordingly,  giving  me  their  special  sympathy 
and  good  wishes.  I  believe  in  the  justice  of  audiences. 
They  are  sincere  and  hearty  in  their  approval  of  what 
they  like,  and  have  the  greatest  hand  in  making  an 
actor's  reputation.  Journalistic  power  cannot  be  over- 
valued ;  it  is  enormous  ;  but,  in  regard  to  actors,  it  is 
a  remarkable  fact  that  their  permanent  reputations,  the 
final  and  lasting  verdict  of  their  merits,  are  made 
chiefly  by  their  audiences.  Sometimes  the  true  record 
comes  after  the  players  are  dead,  and  it  is  sometimes 
written  by  men  who  possibly  never  saw  them.     Ed- 


23 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


mund  Kean's  may  be  called  a  posthumous  reputation. 
If  you  read  the  newspapers  of  the  time  you  will  find 
that  during  his  acting  days  he  was  terribly  mauled. 
Garrick's  impersonations  were  not  much  written  about 
in  his  day.  As  to  Burbagc,  Bettcrton,  aud  other 
famoud  actors  of  their  time,  whose  names  are  familiar 
to  us,  when  they  lived  there  were  practically  no  news- 
papers to  chronicle  their  work." 

'*  You  believe,  then,  that  merit  eventually  makes  its 
mark,  in  spite  of  professional  criticism,  and  that,  like 
Msisonic  rituals,  the  story  of  success,  its  form  and 
pressure,  may  go  down  orally  to  posterity?" 

"I  believe  that  what  audiences  really  like  they 
stand  by.  I  believe  they  hand  down  the  actor's  name 
to  future  generations.  They  are  the  judge  and  jury 
who  find  the  verdict  and  pronounce  sentence.  I  will 
give  you  an  example  in  keeping  with  the  rapid  age  in 
which  we  live.  I  am  quite  certain  that  within  twelve 
hours  of  the  production  of  a  new  play  of  any  impor- 
tance all  London  knows  whether  the  piece  is  a  success 
or  a  failure,  no  matter  whether  the  journals  have 
criticised  it  or  not.  Each  person  in  the  audience  is  the 
centre  of  a  little  community,  and  the  word  ia  passed  on 
from  one  to  the  other." 

"  What  is  your  feeling  in  regard  to  first-night  audi- 
ences, apart  from  the  regular  play-going  public?  I 
should  imagine  that  the  sensitive  nature  of  a  true  artist 
must  be  considerably  jarred  by  the  knowledge  that  a 
first-night  audience  is  peculiarly  fastidious  and  sophisti- 
cated." 

"I  confess  I  am  happier  in  presence  of  what  you  call 


iiiii 


AT  ROME. 


23 


the  regular  play-going  public.  I  am  apt  to  become 
depressed  on  a  first  night.  Some  of  my  friends  and 
fellow-artists  arc  stimulated  and  excited  by  a  sense  of 
opposition.  I  fear  it  lowers  me.  I  know  that  while 
there  is  a  good,  hearty  crowd  who  have  come  to  be 
pleased,  there  are  some  who  have  not  come  to  be 
pleased.  God  help  us  if  we  were  in  the  hands  of  the 
few  who,  from  personal  or  other  motives,  come  to  the 
theatre  in  the  hope  of  seeing  a  failure,  and  who  pour 
out  their  malice  and  spite  in  anonymous  letters  I  " 

"  Detraction  and  malicious  opposition  are  among  the 
penalties  of  success.  To  be  on  a  liigher  platform  than 
your  fellows  is  to  be  a  mark  for  envy  and  slander,"  I 
answered,  dropping,  I  fear,  into  platitude,  wliich  my 
host  cut  short  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders  and  a 
rapid  stride  across  the  room. 

He  handed  to  me  a  book,  handsomely  bound  and 
with  broad  margins,  through  which  ran  a  ripple  of  old- 
faced  type,  evidently  the  work  of  an  author  and  a  handi- 
craftsman who  love  the  memories  both  of  Caxton  and 
his  immediate  successors.  It  was  entitled  "Notes  on 
Louis  XI. ;  with  some  short  extracts  from  Commines' 
Memoirs,"  and  was  dated  "London,  1878,  —  printed 
for  the  author." 

"That  book,"  said  my  host,  "was  sent  to  me  by  a 
person  I  had  tlicn  never  seen  nor  heard  of.  It  came  to 
me  anonymously.  I  wished  to  have  a  second  copy  of 
it,  and  sent  to  the  printer  with  the  purpose  of  obtaining 
it.  He  replied  by  telling  me  the  work  was  not  for  sale, 
and  referring  me  to  the  author,  whose  address  he  sent 
to  me.     I  made  the  application  as  requested ;  another 


24 


IMPPiESSIONS   OF  AMERICA. 


|i 


,*Hi 


copy  was  forwarded,  and  with  it  a  kindly  intimation 
that  if  ever  1  should  be  near  the  hoiiae  of  the  writer, 

*  wc  should  be  glad  to  sec  you.'  I  called  in  due  course, 
and  found  the   author  one  of  a  most  agreeable  family. 

*  You  will  wonder,'  they  said  at  parting,  '  why  we 
wrote  and  compiled  this  book.  It  was  simply  for  this 
reason  :  a  public  critic  in  a  leading  journal  had  said,  as 
nothing  was  really  known  of  the  character,  manners, 
and  habits  of  Louis  XI.,  an  actor  might  take  whatever 
liberties  he  pleased  with  the  subject.  We  prepared  this 
little  volume  to  put  on  record  a  refutation  of  the  state- 
ment, a  protest  against  it,  and  a  tribute  to  your  imper- 
sonation of  the  character.'  Here  is  another  present 
that  I  received  soon  afterward,  —  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  works  of  its  kind  I  ever  remember  to  have 
seen." 

It  was  an  artistic  casket,  in  which  was  enshrined 
what  looked  like  a  missal  bound  in  carved  ivory  and 
gold.  It  proved,  however,  to  be  a  beautifully  bound 
book  of  poetic  and  other  memorials  of  Charles  the 
First,  printed  and  illustrated  by  hand,  with  exquisite 
head  and  tail  pieces  in  water-colors,  portraits,  coats-of- 
arms,  and  vignettes,  by  Buckman,  Castaing,  Tcrrel, 
Slie,  and  Phillips.  The  work  was  "  imprinted  for  the 
author  at  London,  30th  January,  1879,"  and  the  title 
ran  :  "  To  the  Honor  of  Henry  Irving  :  to  cherish  the 
Memory  of  Charles  the  First :  these  Thoughts,  Gold 
of  the  Dead,  are  here  devoted."  As  a  work  of  art, 
the  book  is  a  treasure.  The  portraits  of  the  Charleses 
and  several  of  their  generals  are  in  the  highest  style  of 
water-color  painting,  with  gold  borders ;  and  the  initial 


iiliiii 


AT  UOME. 


M 


letters  and  other  embellishments  arc  studies  of  the 
most  finished  and  delicate  character. 

"Now  these,"  said  their  owner,  returnliig  the  vol- 
umes to  the  book-shelves  over  which  the  raven 
stretched  its  wings,  "arc  only  two  out  of  scores  of 
proofs  tliat  audiences  arc  intellectually  active,  and  that 
they  find  many  ways  of  fixing  their  opinions.  These 
incidents  of  personal  action  arc  evidences  of  the  spirit 
of  the  whole.  One  night,  in  "Hamlet,"  something 
was  thrown  upon  the  stage.  It  struck  a  lamp,  and 
fell  into  the  orchestra.  It  could  not  be  found  for  some 
time.  An  mquiry  was  made  about  it  by  some  person  in 
the  front,  —  an  aged  woman,  who  was  much  concerned 
that  I  had  not  received  it,  —  so  I  was  informed  at 
the  box-office.  A  sad-looking  woman,  evidently  very 
poor,  called  the  next  day ;  and,  being  informed  that 
the  trinket  was  found,  expressed  herself  greatly 
pleased.  *  I  often  come  to  the  gallery  of  the  theatre,* 
she  said,  '  and  I  wanted  Mr.  Irving  to  have  this  family 
heirloom.  I  wanted  him  alone  in  this  world  to  possess 
it.'  This  is  the  trinket,  which  I  wear  on  my  watch- 
chain.  The  theatre  was  evidently  a  solace  to  that  poor 
soul.  She  had  probably  some  sorrow  in  her  life  ;  and 
she  may  have  felt  a  kind  of  comfort  in  Hamlet,  or 
myself,  perhaps,  possessing  this  little  cross." 

As  he  spoke,  the  actor's  lithe  fingers  were  busy  at  his 
watch-chain,  and  he  seemed  to  be  questioning  the  secret 
romance  of  the  trinket  thrown  to  him  from  the  gallery. 

"I  don't  know  why  else  she  let  it  fall  upon  the 
stage ;  but  strange  impulses  sometimes  take  hold  of 
people  sitting  at  a  play,  especially  in  tragedy." 


26 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


'■> 


The  trinket  about  which  he  speculated  so  much  is  an 
old-fashioned  gold  cross.  On  two  sides  is  engraved, 
"Faith,  Hope,  and  Charity";  on  the  front,  "I  beUeve 
in  the  forgiveness  of  sins " ;  and  on  the  reverse,  "  I 
scorn  to  fear  or  change." 

"They  said  at  the  box-office,"  went  on  the  actor, 
musingly,  "that  she  was  a  poor  mother  who  had  lost 
her  son ; "  and  then,  rousing  himself,  he  returned 
brightly  to  the  subject  of  our  conversation.  "One 
example,"  he  said,  "  of  the  generous  sympathy  of 
audiences  serves  to  point  the  moral  of  what  I  mean ; 
and  in  every  case  the  motive  is  the  same,  to  show  an 
earnest  appreciation,  and  to  encourage  and  give  pleas- 
ure to  the  actor.  At  Sheffield  one  night,  during  the 
grouse  season,  a  man  in  the  gallery  threw  a  brace  of 
birds  upon  the  stage,  with  a  rough  note  of  thanks  and 
compliments ;  and  one  of  the  pit  audience  sent  me 
round  a  knife  which  he  had  made  himself.  You  see, 
the  people  who  do  these  things  have  nothing  to  gain  ; 
they  are  under  no  extraneous  influence  ;  they  judge  for 
themselves ;  and  they  are  representative  of  that  great 
Public  Opinion  which  makes  or  mars,  and  which  in  the 
end  is  always  right.  When  they  are  against  you  it  is 
hard  at  the  time  to  be  convinced  that  you  are  wrong  ; 
but  you  are.  Take  my  case.  I  made  my  first  suc- 
cess at  the  St.  James's.  We  were  to  have  opened 
with 'Hunted  Down.'  We  did  not.  I  was  caat  for 
Doricourt  in  '  The  Belle's  Stratagem,'  —  a  part  which 
I  had  never  played  before,  and  which  I  thought  did 
not  suit  me.  I  felt  that  this  was  the  opinion  of  the 
audience  soon  after  the  play  began.     The  house  ap- 


AT  HOME.  0. 

pearcd  to  be  indifferent,  and  I  believed  that  failure  was 
conclusively  stamped  upon  my  work,  when  suddenly, 
on  my  exit  after  the  mad  scene,  I  was  startled  by  a 
burst  of  applause,  and  so  great  was  the  enthusiasm  of 
the  audience  that  I  was  compelled  to  reappear  on  the 
scene,  —  a  somewhat  unusual  thing,  as  you  know, 
except  on  the  operatic  stage." 

"And  in  America,"  I  said,  "where  scene-calls  are 
quite  usual,  and  quite  destructive  of  the  illusion  of  the 
play,  I  think." 

"  Yon  ar3  right ;  and,  by  the  way,  if  there  must  be 
calls,  I  like  our  modern  method  of  taking  a  call  after 
an  act  on  the  scene  itself.  But  to  proceed.  I  next 
played '  Hunted  Down,'  and  they  liked  me  in  that ;  and 
when  they  do  like,  audiences  are  no  niggards  of  their 
confessions  of  pleasure.  My  next  engagement  was  at 
the  Queen's  Theatre,  where  I  was  successful.  Then  I 
went  to  the  Gaiety,  where  I  played  Chevenex.  I  fol- 
lowed at  Drury  Lane  in  '  Formosa,'  and  nobody  noticed 
me  at  all." 

"  Do  you  think  you  always  understand  the  silence  of 
an  audience  ?  I  mean  in  this  way  :  on  a  first  night,  for 
example,  I  have  sometimes  gone  round  to  speak  to  an 
actor,  and  have  been  met  with  the  remark,  '  How  cold 
the  audience  is  I '  as  if  excessive  quietness  was  indicative 
of  displeasure,  the  idea  being  that  when  an  audience 
is  really  pleased,  it  always  stamps  its  feet  and  claps 
its  hands.  I  have  seen  an  artist  making  his  or  her 
greatest  success  with  an  audience  that  manifested  its 
delight  by  suppressing  every  attempt  at  applause." 

"I  know  exactly  what  you  mean,"  he  answered.    "  I 


V 


2a 


IMPBESSI0N8  OF  AMERICA. 


recall  a  case  in  point.  There  was  such  an  absence  of 
applause  on  the  first  night  of  'The  Two  Roses,'  while 
I  was  on  the  stage,  that  I  could  not  believe  my  friends 
when  they  congratulated  me  on  my  success.  Bat  with 
experience  one  gets  to  understand  the  idiosyncrasies 
and  habits  of  audiences.  You  spoke  of  the  silence  of 
some  audiences.  The  most  wonderful  quiet  and  silence 
I  have  ever  experienced  as  an  actor,  a  stillness  that  is 
profound,  has  been  in  those  two  great  theatres,  the  one 
that  was  burned  down  at  Glasgow,  and  the  Standard,  in 
London,  during  the  court  scene  of  *  The  Bells.'" 


V.      ■ 

Genius  is  rarely  without  a  sense  of  humor.  Mr. 
Irving  has  a  broad  appreciation  of  fun,  though  his 
own  humor  is  subtle  and  deep  down.  This  is  never 
better  shown  than  in  his  Richard  and  Louis.  It 
now  and  then  appears  in  his  conversations  ;  and  when 
he  has  an  anecdote  to  tell  he  seems  to  f'evelop  the 
finer  and  more  delicate  motives  of  the  action  of  the 
narrative,  as  if  he  were  dramatizing  it  as  he  went 
along.  We  dropped  our  main  subject  of  audiences 
presently  to  talk  of  other  things.  He  related  to  me  a 
couple  of  stories  of  a  "  dresser  "  who  was  his  servant  in 
days  gone  by.  The  poor  man  is  dead  now,  and  these 
incidents  of  his  life  will  not  hurt  his  memory. 

"  One  night,"  said  Irving,  "  when  I  had  been  play- 
ing a  new  part,  the  old  man ,  said,  while  dressing 
me,  'This  is  your  master-piece,  sir  I'  How  do  you 
think  he  had  arrived  at  this  opinion?    He  had  seen 


AT  HOME. 


29 


►sence  of 
38,'  while 
\j  friends 
Bat  with 
yncrasies 
silence  of 
ad  silence 
ss  that  is 
3,  the  one 
mdard ,  in 


I. 


i  i) 


lor.     Mr. 
lOugh  his 

is  never 
ouis.  It 
and  when 
velop  the 
on  of  the 

he  went 
audiences 
d  to  me  a 
servant  in 
and  these 

)een  play- 
dressing 
do  you 
had   seen 


nothing  of  the  piece,  but  he  noticed  that  I  perspired 
more  than  usual.  The  poor  fellow  was  given  over  to 
drink  at  last ;  so  I  told  him  we  must  part  if  he  did  not 
mend  his  ways.  'I  wonder,'  I  said  to  him,  'that,  for 
the  sake  of  your  wife  and  children,  you  do  not 
reform ;  besides,  you  look  so  ridiculous.'  Indeed, 
I  never  saw  a  sillier  man  when  he  was  tipsy ;  and 
his  very  name  would  set  children  laughing,  —  it  was 
Doody.  Well,  in  response  to  my  appeal,  with 
maudlin  vanity  and  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  he  an- 
swered, '  Tliey  make  so  much  of  me  I '  It  reminded  me 
of  Dean  Ramsay's  story  of  his  drunken  parishioner. 
The  parson,  you  remember,  admonished  the  whiskey- 
drinking  Scot,  concluding  his  lecture  by  offering  his 
own  conduct  as  an  example.  '  I  can  go  into  the  village 
and  come  home  again  without  getting  drunk.'  *  Ah, 
minister,  but  I'm  sae  popular  I '  was  the  fuddling 
parishioner's  apologetic  reply. 

A  notable  person  in  appearance,  I  said  just  now. 
Let  me  sketch  the  famous  actor  as  we  leave  his  rooms 
together.  A  tall,  spare  figure  in  a  dark  overcoat  and 
grayish  trousers,  black  neckerchief  carelessly  tied,  a 
tall  hat,  rather  broad  at  the  brim.  His  hair  is  black 
and  bushy,  with  a  wave  in  it  on  the  verge  of  a  curl, 
and  suggestions  of  gray  at  the  temples  and  over  the 
ears.  It  is  a  pale,  somewhat  ascetic  face,  with  bushy 
eyebrows,  dark  dreamy  eyes,  a  nose  that  indicates 
gentleness  rather  than  strength,  a  thin  upper  lip,  a 
mouth  opposed  to  all  ideas  of  scnsuousness,  but  nervous 
and  sensitive,  a  strong  jaw  and  chin,  and  a  head 
inclined  to  droop  a  little,  as  is  often  the  case  with  men 


80 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


of  a  studious  habit.  There  is  great  individuality  in 
the  whole  figure,  and  in  the  face  a  rare  mobility  which 
photography  fails  to  catch  in  all  the  efforts  I  have  yet 
seen  of  English  artists.  Though  the  popular  idea  is 
rather  to  associate  tragedy  with  the  face  and  manner  of 
Irving,  there  is  nothing  sunnier  than  his  smile.  It 
lights  up  all  his  countenance,  and  reveals  his  soul  in  his 
eyes ;  but  it  is  like  the  sunshine  that  bursts  for  a 
moment  from  a  cloud,  and  disappears  to  leave  the  land- 
scape again  in  shadows,  flecked  here  and  there  with 
fleeting  reminiscences  of  the  sun. 

The  management  of  the  Lyceum  Theatre  has  a 
moral  and  classic  atmosphere  of  its  own.  A  change 
came  over  the  house  with  the  success  of  "  The  Bells." 
"  Charles  I."  consummated  it.  You  enter  the  theatre 
with  feelings  entirely  different  from  those  which  take 
possession  of  you  at  any  other  house.  It  is  as  if  the 
management  inspired  you  with  a  special  sense  of  its 
responsibility  to  Art,  and  your  own  obligations  to  sup- 
port its  earnest  endeavors.  Mr.  Irving  has  intensified 
all  this  by  a  careful  personal  attention  to  every  detail 
belonging  to  the  conduct  of  his  theatre.  He  has 
stamped  his  own  individuality  upon  it.  His  influence 
is  seen  and  felt  on  all  hands.  He  has  given  the  color 
of  his  ambition  to  his  officers  and  servants.  His 
object  is  to  perfect  the  art  of  dramatic  representation, 
and  elevate  the  profession  to  which  he  belongs.  There 
is  no  commercial  consideration  at  work  when  he  is 
mounting  a  play,  though  his  experience  is  that  neither 
expense  nor  pains  are  lost  on  the  public.        ;         ^^ 


lltiu  :',' 


AT  HOME. 


31 


lality  in 
;y  which 
[lave  yet 
idea  is 
inner  of 
lile.  It 
il  in  his 
3  for  a 
be  land- 
!re  with 

'■   has   a 

change 

Bells." 

theatre 

ch  take 

if  the 

of  its 

o  sup- 

ensified 

Y  detail 

le   has 

luence 

e  color 

His 

tation, 

There 

he  is 

neither 


VI. 

r 
When  Mr.   Irving's    art   is  discussed,   when    his 

Hamlet  or  his  Mathias,  his  Shy  lock  or  his  Dei  Fran- 
chi,  are  discussed,  he  should  be  regarded  from  a 
broader  stand-point  than  that  of  the  mere  actor.  He 
is  entitled  to  be  looked  at  as  not  only  the  central  figure 
of  the  play,  but  as  the  motive  power  of  the  whole 
entertainment,  —  the  master  who  has  set  the  story  and 
grouped  it,  the  controlling  genius  of  the  moving 
picture,  the  source  of  the  inspiration  of  the  painter, 
the  musician,  the  costumer,  and  the  machinist,  whose 
combined  efforts  go  to  the  realization  of  the  actor- 
manager's  conception  and  plans.  It  is  acknowledged 
on  all  hands  that  Mr.  Irving  has  done  more  for 
dramatic  art  all  round  than  any  actor  of  our  time  ;  and 
it  is  open  to  serious  question  whether  any  artist  of  any 
time  has  done  as  much.  Not  alone  on  the  stage,  but 
in  front  of  it,  at  the  very  entrance  of  his  theatre,  the 
dignified  influence  of  his  management  is  felt.  Every 
department  has  for  its  head  a  man  of  experience  and 
tact,  and  every  person  about  the  place,  from  the 
humblest  messenger  to  the  highest  officer  and  actor, 
seems  to  carry  about  with  him  a  certain  pride  of  asso- 
ciation with  the  management. 

Mr.  Irving's  dressing-room  at  the  theatre  is  a 
thorough  business-like  apartment,  with  at  the  same 
time  evidences  of  tho  taste  which  obtains  at  his  cham- 
bers. It  is  as  unpretentious  and  yet  in  its  way  as 
remarkable  as  the  man.  See  him  sitting  there  at  the 
dressing-table,  where  he  is  model  to  himself,  where  he 


32 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


iii^i 


converts  himself  into  the    character  he  is  sustaining. 
His  own  face  is  his  canvas,  his  own  person,  for  the 
time  being,  the  lay  figure  which  he  adorns.     It  is  a 
large  square  table  in  the  corner  of  the  room.     In  the 
centre  is  a  small  old-fashioned  mirror,  which  is  prac- 
tically the  easel  upon  which  he  works ;  for  therein  is 
reflected  the  face   which    has   to    depict   the   passion 
and   fear  of  Mathias,    the   cupidity   of  Richard,   the 
martyrdom     of    Charles,    the    grim    viciousness    of 
Dubosc,    the    implacable    justice    of    the    avenging 
Dei     Franchi,     and     the     touching     melancholy    of 
Hamlet.     As  a  mere  matter  of  "  make-up,"  his  realiza- 
tions of  the  historical  pictures  of  Charles   the   First 
and  Philip  of  Spain  are  the  highest  kind  of  art.     They 
belong  to  Vandyck  and  Velasquez,  not  only  in  their 
imitation  of  the  great  masters,  but  in  the  sort  of  inspi- 
ration  for    character   and   color   which   moved   those 
famous  painters.     See  him  sitting,  I  say,  the  actor- 
artist  at  his  easel.       A  tray  on   the   right-hand  side 
of  his  mirror  faay  be  called  his  palette ;    it  contains 
an   assortment   of    colors,    paint-pots,    powders,    and 
brushes ;     but    in    his    hand,   instead   of  the    maul- 
stick, is   the   familiar  hare's-foot,  —  the  actor's  "best 
fi'iend "  from  the  earliest  days  of  rouge  and   burned 
cork.     To   the  left  of   the  mirror  lie   letters  opened 
and  unopened,    missives   just   brought   by   the   post, 
a  jewel-box,    and   various   "properties"   in   the   way 
of  chains,  lockets,  or  buckles  that  belong  to  the  part 
he  is  playing.     He  is  talking  to  his  stage-manager, 
or    to    some    intimate    friend,    as    he   continues   his 
work.     You  can  hear  the  action  of  the  drama  that  is 


■■u 
:tl 

■:b  i 


ii'itiUill 


AT  HOME. 


33 


rroin""  on,  —  a  distant  cheer,  the  clash  of  swords,  a 
merry  laugh,  or  a  passing  chorus.  The  "call-boy" 
of  the  theatre  looks  in  at  intervals  to  report  the  prog- 
ress of  the  piece  up  to  the  point  where  it  is  neces- 
sary the  leading  artist  should  appear  upon  the  stage. 
Then,  as  if  he  is  simply  going  to  see  a  friend  who  is 
waiting  for  him,  Irving  leaves  his  dressing-room,  and 
you  are  alone.  There  is  no  "  pulling  himself  togetlier," 
or  "bracing  up,"  or  putting  on  "tragic  airs"  as  he 
goes.  It  is  a  pleasant  "  Good-night,"  or  "  I  shall  see 
you  again,"  that  takes  him  out  of  his  dressing-room, 
and  you  can  tell  when  he  is  before  the  audience  by  the 
loud  cheers  that  come  rushing  up  the  staircases  from  the 
stage.  While  he  is  away,  you  look  around  the  room. 
You  find  that  the  few  pictures  which  decorate  the  walls 
are  theatrical  portraits.  Here  is  an  etching  of  Garrick's 
head  ;  there  a  water-color  of  Ellen  Terry  ;  here  a  study 
of  Macready  in  Virginius  ;  there  a  study  in  oil  of  Ed- 
mund Kean,  by  Clint,  side  by  side  with  a  portrait  of 
George  Frederic  Cooke,  by  Liversiege.  Interspersed 
among  these  things  are  framed  play-bills  of  a  past  age 
and  interesting  autograph  letters.  Near  the  dressing- 
table  is  a  tall  looking-glass,  in  front  of  it  an  easy-chair, 
over  which  are  lying  a  collection  of  new  draperies  and 
costumes  recently  submitted  for  the  actor-manager's 
approval.  The  room  is  warm  with  the  gas  that 
illuminates  it ;  the  atmosphere  delightful  to  the 
fancy  that  finds  a  special  fascination  behind  the  foot- 
lidita. 


34 


IMPEESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


lii! 


llliiti 


:  lulii; ' 


li 


VII. 

A  REFLECTIVE  writer,  with  the  power  to  vividly 
recall  a  past  age  and  contrast  it  with  the  present,  might 
find  ample  inspiration  in  the  rooms  to  which  Mr. 
Irving  presently  invites  us.  It  is  Saturday  night. 
On  this  last  day  in  every  acting  week  it  is  his  habit  to 
sup  at  the  theatre,  and,  in  spite  of  his  two  perform- 
ances, he  finds  strength  enough  to  entertain  a  few 
guests,  sometimes  a  snug  party  of  three,  sometimes  a 
lively  company  of  eight  or  ten.  We  descend  a  car- 
peted staircase,  cross  the  stage  upon  the  remains  of  the 
enow  scene  of  the  "  Corsican  Brothers,"  ascend  a  wind- 
ing stair,  pass  through  an  armory  packed  with  such 
a  variety  of  weapons  as  to  suggest  the  Tower  of  Lon- 
don, and  are  then  ushered  into  a  spacious  wainscoted 
apartment,  with  a  full  set  of  polished  ancient  armor  in 
each  corner  of  it,  an  antique  fireplace  with  the  example 
of  an  old  master  over  the  mantel,  a  high-backed  settee 
in  an  alcove  opposite  the  blind  windows  (the  sills  of 
which  are  decorated  with  ancient  bottles  and  jugs),  and 
in  the  centre  of  the  room  an  old  oak  dining-table,  fur- 
nished for  supper  with  white  cloth,  cut  glass,  and 
silver,  among  which  shine  the  familiar  beet-root  and 
tomato. 

"This  was  the  old  Beefsteak  Club  room,"  says  our 
host ;  "  beyond  there  is  the  kitchen ;  the  members 
dined  here.  The  apartments  were  lumber-rooms  until 
lately." 

Classic  lumber-rooms  truly  I  In  the  history  of  the 
clubs  no  association  is  more  famous  than  the  Sublime 


AT  nOME. 


m 


Soci^^j  of  Beefsteaks.  The  late  William  Jerdan  waa 
the  first  to  attempt  anything  like  a  concise  sketch  of 
the  club,  and  he  wrote  his  reminiscences  thereof  for  me 
and  "  The  Gentleman's  Magazine  "  a  dozen  years  ago, 
in  the  popular  modern  days  of  that  periodical.  Jerdan 
gave  me  an  account  of  the  club  in  the  days  when  he 
visited  it.  "  The  President,"  he  said,  —  '*^n  absolute 
despot  during  his  reign,  —  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table 
adorned  with  ribbon  and  badge,  and  with  the  insignia 
of  a  silver  gridiron  on  his  breast ;  his  head,  when  he 
was  oracular,  was  crowned  with  a  feathery  hat,  said  to 
have  been  worn  by  (iarrick  in  some  gay  part  on  the 
stage.  He  looked  every  inch  a  king.  At  the  table  on 
this  occasion  were  seated  the  Bishop,  Samuel  Arnold, 
the  patriotic  originator  of  English  opera,  and  strenu- 
of  native   musical   talent.     He  wore 


ous 


encourager 


a  mitre,  said  to  have  belonged  to  Cardinal  Gregorio ; 
but  be  that  as  it  might,  it  became  him  well  as  he 
set  it  on  his  head  to  pronounce  the  grace  before 
meat,  which  he  intoned  as  reverently  as  if  he  had  been 
in  presence  of  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  instead  of 
a  bevy  of  Steakers.  Near  him  was  John  Richards,  the 
Recorder,  whose  office  in  passing  sentence  on  culprits 
was  discharged  with  piquancy  and  effect.  Captain 
Morris,  the  Laureate,  occupied  a  distinguished  seat ;  so 
also  did  Dick  Wilson,  the  Secretary,  a  bit  of  a  butt  to 
the  jokers,  who  were  wont  to  extort  from  him  some 
account  of  a  Continental  trip,  where  he  prided  himself 
on  having  ordered  a  *  boulevard'  for  his  dinner,  and 
iin  paysan  (for  faisan)  to  be  roasted ;  and  last  of  all 
I  can  recall  to  mind,  at  the  bottom  of  the  plenteous 


1    1 11 


36 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


board  sat  the  all-important  'Boots,'  the  youngest  mem- 
ber of  the  august  assembly.  These  associated  as  a 
sort  of  staff  with  a  score  of  other  gentlemen,  all  men 
of  the  world,  men  of  intellect  and  intelligence,  well 
educated,  and  of  celebrity  in  various  lines  of  life  — 
noblemen,  lawyers,  physicians  and  surgeons,  authors, 
artists,  newspaper  editors,  actors,  —  it  is  hardly  pos- 
sible to  conceive  any  combination  of  various  talent  to 
be  more  efficient  for  the  object  sought  than  the  Beef- 
steaks. The  accommodation  for  their  meetings  was 
built,  expressly  for  that  end,  behind  the  scenes  of 
the  Lyceum  Theatre,  by  Mr.  Arnold ;  and,  among 
other  features,  was  a  room  with  no  daylight  to  intrude, 
and  this  was  the  dining-room,  with  the  old  gridiron 
on  the  ceiling,  over  the  centre  of  the  table.  The 
cookery  on  which  the  good  cheer  of  the  company 
depended  was  carried  on  in  what  may  be  called  the 
kitchen,  in  full  view  of  the  chairman,  and  served 
through  the  opposite  wall,  namely,  a  huge  gridiron 
with  bars  as  wide  apart  as  the  '  chess  '  of  small  win- 
dows, handed  hot-and-hot  to  the  expectant  hungerers. 
There  were  choice  salads  (mostly  of  beetroot),  porter, 
and  port.  The  plates  were  never  overloaded,  but  small 
cuts  sufficed  till  almost  satiated  appetite  perhaps  called 
for  one  more  from  the  third  cut  in  the  rump  itself, 
which  His  Grace  of  Norfolk,  after  many  slices,  prized 
as  the  grand  essence  of  bullock  !  " 

Other  times,  other  manners.  The  rooms  are  still 
there.  The  gridiron  is  gone  from  the  ceiling,  but  the 
one  through  which  sliced  bullock  used  to  be  handed 
"  hot-and-hot "  to  the  nobility  of  blood  and  intellect 


AT  HOME. 


37 


remaina.  It  and  the  kitchen  (now  furnished  with  a 
fine  modern  cooking-range)  arc  slmt  off  from  the 
dining-room,  and  neither  porter  nor  port  ever  weighs 
down  the  spirits  of  Mr.  Irving's  guests.  He  sometimes 
regales  a  few  friends  here  after  the  play.  The  menu 
on  these  occasions  would  contrast  as  strangely  with 
that  of  the  old  days  as  the  guests  and  the  subjects  of 
their  conversation  and  mirth.  It  is  classic  ground  on 
which  we  tread,  and  the  ghosts  that  rise  before  us  are 
those  of  Sheridan,  Perry,  Lord  Erskine,  Cam  Hob- 
house,  and  their  boon  companions.  Should  the  nota- 
bilities among:  Irvinjj's  friends  be  mentioned,  the  list 
would  be  a  fair  challenge  to  the  old  Beefsteaks.  I  do 
not  propose  to  deal  with  these  giants  of  yesterday  and 
to-day,  but  to  contrast  with  Jordan's  picture  a  recent 
supper  of  guests  gathered  together  on  an  invitation  of 
only  a  few  hours  previously.  On  the  left  side  of 
Irving  sat  one  of  his  most  intimate  friends,  a  famous 
London  comedian  ;  on  the  right,  a  well-known  American 
trageJian,  who  had  not  yet  played  in  London ;  oppo- 
site, at  the  other  side  of  the  circular-ended  table,  sat  a 
theatrical  manager  from  Dublin,  and  another  of  the  same 
profession  from  the  English  midlands  ;  the  other  chairs 
were  occupied  by  a  famous  traveller,  an  American  gentle- 
man connected  with  literature  and  life  insurance,  a  young 
gentleman  belonging  to  English  political  and  fashion- 
able society,  the  "editor  of  a  Liverpool  journal,  a  pro- 
vincial playwright,  and  a  north-country  philanthropist. 
The  repast  began  with  oysters,  and  ran  through  a  few 
entrees  and  a  steak,  finishing  with  a  rare  old  Stilton 
cheese.     There  were  various  salads,  very  dry  sherry 


38 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


and  Champagne,  a  rich  Burgundy,  and,  after  all,  sodas 
and  brandiea  and  cigars.  The  talk  was  "  shop  "  from 
first  to  last,  —  discussions  of  the  artistic  treatment  of 
certain  characters  by  actors  of  the  day  and  of  a  previ- 
ous age,  anecdotes  of  the  stage,  the  position  of  the 
drama,  its  purpose  and  mission.  Every  guest  con- 
tributed his  quota  to  the  general  talk,  the  host  himself 
giving  way  to  the  humor  of  the  hour,  and  chatting  of 
his  career,  his  position,  his  hopes,  his  prospects,  his 
ambition,  in  the  frankest  way.  Neither  the  space  at 
my  disposal  nor  the  custom  of  the  place  will  permit  of 
a  revelation  of  this  social  dialogue ;  for  the  founder 
of  the  feast  has  revived,  with  the  restored  Beefsteak 
rooms,  the  motto  from  Horace's  "Epistles"  (para- 
phrased by  the  old  club  Bishop) ,  which  is  still  inscribed 
on  the  dininff-room  wall :  — 


"  Let  no  one  bear  beyond  this  threshold  hence, 
Words  uttered  here  in  friendly  confidence." 


NEW  YORK. 


39 


II. 


NEW  YORK. 

Going  to  Meet  the  "  Britannic  "  — The  "  Blackbird  "—  Skirmishers  of  the 
American  Press  —  The  London  "  Standard's  "  Message  to  New  York, 
Boston,  and  Chicago  —  "Working"  America  —  "  Reportorial  "  Ex- 
periences—  Daylight  oflf  Statcu  Island  —  At  Quarantine  under  the 
Stars  and  Stripes  —  •♦  God  Save  the  Queen !  "  and  "  Hail  to  the  Chief!  " 
—  Received  and  "  InteiTiewcd  "  —  "  Portia  on  a  Trip  from  the  Venetian 
Seas"  —  What  the  Reporters  Think  and  what  Ii'ving  Says  —  The 
Necessity  of  Applause — An  Anecdote  of  Fon-est  — Mr.  Vanderbilt 
and  the  Mirror  —  Miss  Terry  and  the  Reporters  —  "  Tell  them  I  never 
loved  home  so  well  as  now  "  —  Landed  and  Welcomed  —  Scenes  on  the 
Quay  —  At  the  Brevoort. 

I. 

Four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  October  21,  1883. 
A  cheerful  gleam  of  light  falls  upon  a  group  of 
Lotos  guests  as  they  separate  at  the  hospitable 
door-way  of  that  famous  New  York  club.  Otherwise 
Fifth  avenue  is  solitary  and  cold.  The  voices  of 
the  clubmen  strike  the  ear  pleasantly.  "  Going  to  meet 
Irving," you  hear  some  of  them  say,  and  "Good-night," 
the  others.  Presently  the  group  breaks  up,  and  moves 
off  in  different  directions.  "  I  ordered  a  carriage  at  the 
Brevoort  House,"  says  one  of  the  men  who  pursue 
their  way  down  Fifth  avenue.  They  are  the  only 
persons  stirring  in  the  street.  The  electric  arcs  give 
them  accompanying  shadows  as  black  as  the  night- 
clouds  above  them.  The  Edison  lamps  exhibit  the 
tall    buildings,   sharp   and   clear,   against    the    djirk- 


40 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


ness.  Two  guardians  of  a  carpet-store,  on  the 
corner  of  Fourteenth  street,  sleep  cahnly  among  the 
show-bales  that  decorate  the  sidewalk.  An  empty  car 
goes  jingling  along  into  Union  square.  A  pair  of 
flickering  lights  arc  seen  in  the  distance.  They  belong 
to  "the  carriage  at  the  Brevoort  House."  It  will  only 
hold  half  our  number.  The  civilities  that  belong  to 
such  a  situation  being  duly  exchanged,  there  are  some 
who  prefer  to  walk ;  and  an  advance  is  made  on  foot 
and  on  wheels  towards  the  North  river. 

For  my  own  part  I  would,  as  a  rule,  rather  walk 
than  ride  in  a  private  carriage  in  New  York.  The 
street  cars  and  the  elevated  railroad  are  comfortable 
enough ;  but  a  corduroy  road  in  a  forest  track  is  not 
more  emphatic  in  its  demands  upon  the  nerves  of  a 
timid  driver  than  arc  tlie  pitftills  of  a  down-town  street 
in  the  Empire  city.  1  nevertheless  elect  to  ride.  We 
are  four ;  we  might  be  any  number,  to  one  who  should 
attempt  to  count  us,  so  numerous  docs  the  jolting  of 
our  otherwise  comfortable  brougham  appear  to  make 
us.  We  are  tossed  and  pitched  about  as  persistently 
as  w^e  might  be  in  a  dingy  during  a  gale  off  some 
stormy  headland.  Presently  the  fresh  breeze  of  the 
river  blows  upon  us  as  if  to  justify  the  simile  ;  then  we 
are  thrown  at  each  other  more  violently  than  ever ;  a 
flash  of  gas-light  greets  us  ;  the  next  moment  it  is  dark 
again,  and  we  stop  with  alarming  suddenness. 
"  Twenty-second  street  pier,"  says  our  driver,  opening 
the  door.  We  are  received  by  a  mysterious  oflficer,  who 
addresses  us  from  beneath  a  w^orld  of  comforters  and 
overcoats.  ''  Want  the  'Blackbird'  ?  "  he  asks.    We  do. 


NEW  YORK, 


41 


"This  way,"  he  says.  We  follow  him,  to  be  ushered 
straightway  into  the  presence  of  those  active  scouts 
and  skirmishers  of  the  American  press, — the  inter- 
viewers. Here  they  are,  a  veritable  army  of  them,  on 
board  INIr.  Stariu's  well-known  river  steamer,  the 
"Blackbird,"  their  wits  and  their  pencils  duly  sharp- 
ened for  their  prey.  Youth  and  age  both  dedicate 
themselves  to  this  lively  branch  of  American  journal- 
ism. I  tell  a  London  friend  who  is  here  to  "mind 
his  eye,"  or  they  may  practise  upon  him,  and  that 
if  lie  refuses  to  satisfy  their  inquiries  they  may  sacrifice 
him  to  their  spleen ;  for  some  of  them  are  shivering 
with  cold,  and  complaining  that  they  have  had  no 
rest.  Finding  an  English  artist  here  from  the  "  Illus- 
trated London  News,"  I  conduct  him  secretly  to  the 
"Ladies'  cabin."  It  is  occupied  by  a  number  of 
mysterious  forms,  lying  about  in  every  conceivable 
posture ;  some  on  the  floor,  some  on  the  sofas ;  their 
faces  partially  disguised  under  slouch  hats,  their  figures 
enveloped  in  cloaks  and  coats.  They  are  asleep.  The 
cabin  is  dimly  lighted,  and  there  is  an  odor  of  tobacco 
in  the  oily  atmosphere.  "Who  are  they?"  asks  my 
friend,  in  a  whisper.  "  Interviewers  I  "  I  reply,  as  we 
slip  back  to  the  stove  in  the  saloon.  "  What  a  picture 
Doy6  would  have  made  of  the  ladies'  cabin  I "  says  the 
English  artist. 


II. 


We  encounter  more  new-comers  in  the  saloon. 
Two  of  them  bring  copies  of  the  morning  papers. 
I  recognize    several   of   the    interesting   crowd,    and 


42 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


cannot  help  telling  them  something  of  the  conver- 
sation of  the  Beefsteak  Club  room  guest  who  drew 
their  pictures  in  London,  as  a  warning  to  the  traveller 
whom  they  v/ere  going  to  meet.  I  find  them  almost 
as  ill-informed,  and  quite  as  entertaining,  concerning 
Irving's  mannerisms,  as  was  the  traveller  in  question 
touching  their  own  occupation.  They  talk  very  much 
in  the  spirit  of  what  has  recently  appeared  here  in  some 
of  the  newspapers  about  Irving  and  his  art-methods. 
New  York,  they  say,  will  not  be  dictated  to  by  Lon- 
don ;  New  York  judges  for  itself.  At  the  same  time 
they  do  not  think  it  a  generous  thing  on  the  part  of 
the  London  "Standard"  to  send  a  hostile  editorial 
avant'Courier  to  New  York,  to  prejudice  the  English 
actor's  audiences  and  his  critics.^     Nor  do  they  think 

1  The  following  cablegram  appeared  in  the  "  Herald,"  on  October  the 
18th,  and  it  was  alluded  to  in  the  editorial  columns  as  "a  hint"  which 
"  will  not  be  lost  upon  the  theatrical  critics  " :  — 

'  "  Loin)ON,  Oct.  17, 1883. 

**  The  '  Standard,'  in  an  editorial  this  morning,  thus  appeals  to  America 
for  a  dispassionate  judgment  of  Henry  Ii-ving :  — 

"American  audiences  have  a  favorable  opportunity  of  showing  that  they 
can  think  for  themselves,  and  do  not  slavishly  echo  the  criticisms  of  the 
English  press.  We  confess  that,  though  one  has  read  many  eulogistic 
notices  of  Mr.  Irving  and  listened  in  private  to  opinions  of  diffei'ent  com- 
plexions, it  is  difficult  to  find  anything  written  respecting  him  that  deserves 
to  be  dignified  with  the  description  of  serious  criticisms.  Cannot  New 
York,  Boston,  and  Chicago  supply  us  with  a  littlo  of  this  material  ?  Are 
we  indulging  vain  imaginings  if  we  hope  that  our  cousins  across  tho  water 
will  forget  all  that  lias  been  said  or  written  about  Irving  and  the  Lyceum 
company  this  side  of  the  ocean,  and  will  go  to  see  him  in  his  chief  pei-forra- 
ances  with  unprejudiced  ej^es  and  ears,  and  send  us,  at  any  rate,  a  true, 
independent,  inconventional  account  of  his  gifts  and  graces,  or  the 
revei-se  ? 

*'  Most  Englishmen  naturally  will  be  gi*atified  if  the  people  of  the  United 
States  find  Inking  as  tragic,  and  Miss  Terry  as  charming,  as  so  many  people 
in  thia  country  consider  thorn.    But  the  gratification  will  bo  increased 


NEW  YORK. 


43 


this  "British  malevolence  "  will  have  any  effect  either 
way,  though  the  "Standard"  practically  proclaims  Mr. 
Irving  and  Miss  Terry  as  impostors.  This  article  has 
been  printed  by  the  press,  from  New  York  to  San 
Francisco,  while  the  Lyceum  Company  and  its  chief 
are  on  the  Atlantic.  I  have  often  heard  it  said,  in 
England,  that  Irving  had  been  wonderfuLy  "  worked  " 
in  America.  Men  who  are  worthy  to  have  great  and 
devoted  friends  unconsciously  make  bitter  enemies. 
Irving  is  honored  with  a  few  of  these  attendants  upon 
fame.  If  the  people  who  regard  his  reputation  as  a 
thing  that  has  been  "worked"  could  have  visited  New 
York  a  week  before  his  arrival  they  could  not  have 
failed  to  be  delighted  to  see  how  much  was  being 
done  against  him,  and  how  little  for  him.  An 
ingenious  and  hostile  pamphletecx  was  in  evidence 
every    bookseller's     window.        Villanous     cheap 


m 

photographs  of  "actor  and  manager"  were  hawked 
in  the  streets.  Copies  of  an  untruthful  sketch 
of  his  career,  printed  by  a  London  weekly, 
were  circulated  through  the  mails.  The  "Stand- 
ard's" strange  appeal  to  New  York,  Boston,  and 
Chicago  was  cabled  to  the  "Herald"  and  repub- 
lished in  the  evening  papers.  Ticket  speculators 
had  bought  up  all  the  best  seats  at  the  Star  Theatre, 
where  the  English  actor  was  to  appear,  and  refused  to 
sell  them  to  the  public  except  at  exorbitant,  and,  for 
many  play-goers,  prohibitive  rates.      So  far  as  "work- 


should  it  be  made  apparent  that  a  similar  conclusion  has  been  arrived  at  by 
the  cxereisc  of  independent  judgment,  and  if  in  pronouncing  it  fresh  light 
is  thrown  upon  the  disputed  points  of  theatrical  controversy." 


44 


IMPBESSI0N8  OF  AMERICA. 


ing  "  went  the  London  enemies  of  the  Lyceum  manager 
were  so  actively  represented  in  New  York  that  his 
friends  in  the  Empire  city  must  have  felt  a  trifle  chilled 
at  the  outlook.  The  operations  of  the  ticket  spe'^u- 
lators,  it  must,  however,  be  admitted,  seemed  to  pro- 
ject in  Irving's  path  the  most  formidable  of  all .  the 
other  obstacles. 


III. 

But  Irving's  ship  is  sailing  on  through  the  darkness 
while  I  have  been  making  this  "aside,"  and  the  "Black- 
bird "  is  in  motion ;  for  I  hear  the  swish  of  the  river, 
and  the  lights  on  shore  are  dancing  by  the  port-holes. 
Mr.  Abbey's  fine  military  band,  from  the  Metropolitan 
Opera  House,  has  come  on  board ;  so  also  has  a  band 
of  waiters  from  the  Brunswick.  Breakfast  is  being 
spread  in  the  saloon.  The  brigands  from  the  ladies' 
cabin  have  laid  aside  their  slouch  hats  and  cloaks. 
They  look  as  harmless  and  as  amiable  as  any  company 
of  English  journalists.  Night  and  dark-lanterns 
might  convert  the  mildest-mannered  crowd  into  the 
appearance  of  a  pirate  crew. 

I  wish  the  Irving  guest  of  my  first  chapter  could  see 
and  talk  to  these  interviewers.  I  learn  that  they 
represent  journals  at  Boston,  Philadelphia,  Chicago, 
St.  Louis,  and  other  cities  besides  New  York.  One 
of  them  has  interviewed  Lord  Coleridge  ;  another  was 
with  Grant  during  the  war ;  a  third  was  with  Lee. 
They  have  all  had  interesting  experiences.  One  is  an 
Englishman ;  another  hails  from  "  bonnie  Scotland." 
There  is  no  suggestion  of  rowdyism  among  them.     I 


NEW  TORE. 


45 


owe  them  an  apology  on  the  "excuse  accuse" 
principle,  for  saying  these  things ;  but  the  "  inter- 
viewer" is  not  understood  in  England;  he  is 
often  abused  in  America,  and  I  should  like  to  do  him 
justice.  These  gentlemen  of  the  press  who  are  going 
out  to  meet  Irving  are  reporters.  Socially  they  occupy 
the  lowest  station  of  journalism,  though  their  work  is 
of  primary  importance.  Intellectually  they  are  capable 
men,  and  the  best  of  them  write  graphically,  and  with 
an  artistic  sense  of  the  picturesque.  They  should,  and 
no  doubt  do,  develop  into  accomplished  and  power- 
ful journalists  ;  for  theirs  is  the  best  of  education.  They 
study  mankind ;  they  come  in  contact  with  the  most 
prominent  of  American  statesmen ;  they  talk  with  all 
great  foreigners  who  visit  the  United  States  ;  they  are 
admitted  into  close  intercourse  with  the  leading  spirits 
of  the  age ;  they  have  chatted  on  familiar  terms  with 
Lincoln,  Sheridan,  Grant,  Garfield,  Huxley,  Coleridge, 
Arnold,  Patti,  Bernhardt,  Nilsson,  and  they  will 
presently  have  added  to  the  long  list  of  their  per- 
sonal acquaintances  Irving  and  Miss  Terry.  They  are 
travellers,  and,  of  necessity,  observers.  Their  press- 
card  is  a  talisman  that  opens  to  them  all  doors  of 
current  knowledge  ;  and  I  am  bound  to  say  that  these 
men  on  board  the  "  Blackbird "  are,  i  conversation 
and  manners,  quite  worthy  of  the  trust  reposed  in 
them  by  the  several  great  journals  which  they 
represent. 


46 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  A¥  ^BICA, 


IV. 

"* Britannic'  ahead  ! "  shouts  a  voice  from  the  gang- 
way. We  clamber  on  deck.  It  is  daylight.  The  air  is 
still  keen.  The  wooded  shores  of  Staten  island  are  brown 
with  the  last  tints  of  autumn.  Up  the  wide  reaches  of 
the  river,  an  arm  of  the  great  sea,  come  all  kinds  of 
craft ;  some  beating  along  under  sail ;  others,  floating 
palaces,  propelled  by  steam.  These  latter  are  ferry- 
boats and  passenger  steamers.  You  have  seen  them 
in  many  a  marine  picture  and  panorama  of  American 
travel.  The  "Blackbird"  is  typical  of  the  rest, — 
double  decks,  broad  saloons,  tiers  of  berths,  ladies' 
cabins,  and  every  ceiling  packed  with  life-buoys  in 
case  of  accident.  We  push  along  through  the 
choppy  water,  our  steam-whistle  screaming  hoarse 
announcements  of  our  course.  The  "  Britannic  "  lies 
calmly  at  quarantine,  the  stars  and  stripes  at  her 
topmast,  the  British  flag  at  her  stern.  She  is  an 
impressive  picture,  —  her  masts  reaching  up  into  the 
gray  sky,  every  rope  taut,  her  outlines  sharp  and  firm. 
In  the  distance  other  ocean  steamers  glide  towards  us, 
attended  by  busy  tugs  and  handsome  launches.  One 
tries  to  compare  the  scene  with  the  Mersey  and  the 
Thames,  and  the  only  likeness  is  in  the  ocean  steamers, 
which  have  come  thence  across  the  seas.  For  the  rest, 
the  scene  is  essentially  American,  —  the  broad  river, 
the  gay  wooden  villas  ashore,  the  brown  hills,  the 
bright  steam  craft  on  the  river,  the  fast  rig  of  the 
trading  schooners ;  and  above  all  the  stars  and 
stripes  of  the  many  flags  that  flutter  in  the  breeze, 


NEW  YORK. 


47 


and  the  triumphant  eagles  that  extend  their  golden 
wings  over  the  lofty  steerage  turrets  of  tug  and  floating 
palace. 

Now  we  are  alongside  the  "  Britannic."  As  our 
engines  stop,  the  band  of  thirty  Italians  on  our  deck 
strikes  up  "God  save  the  Queen."  One  or  two 
British  hands  instinctively  raise  one  or  two  British  hats, 
and  many  a  heart,  I  am  sure,  on  board  the  "Britannic" 
beats  the  quicker  under  the  influence  of  the  familiar 
strains.  A  few  emigrants,  with  unkempt  hair,  on 
the  after  deck,  gaze  open-mouthed  at  the  "Blackbird." 
Several  early  risers  appear  forward  and  greet  with 
waving  hands  the  welcoming  crowd  from  New  York. 
One  has  time  to  note  the  weather-beaten  color  of  the 
"  Britannic's"  funnels. 

"What  sort  of  a  passage  ?  "  cries  a  voice,  shouting  in 
competition  with  the  wind  that  is  blowing  hard  through 
the  rigging. 

"  Pretty  rough,"  is  the  answer. 

"Where  is  Mr.  Irving?"  cries  out  another  "Black- 
bird" passenger. 

"  In  bed,"  is  the  response. 

"  Oh  !  "  says  the  interrogator,  amidst  a  general  laugh. 

"Beg  pardon,  no,"  presently  shouts  the  man  on  the 
"Britannic,"  —  "he's  shaving." 

Another  laugh,  drowned  by  a  salute  of  some  neigh- 
boring guns.  At  this  moment  a  boat  is  lowered  from  the 
splendid  yacht  "  Yosemite,"  which  has  been  steaming 
round  about  the  "  Britannic  "  for  some  time.  It  is  Mr. 
Tilden's  vessel.  He  has  lent  it  to  Mr.  Lawrence 
Barrett  and  Mr.  William  Florence.     They  have  come 


48 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


out  to  meet  Irving  and  Miss  Terry,  with  a  view  to 
carry  them  free  from  worry  or  pressure  to  their  several 
hotels.  The  two  well-known  actors  are  in  the  yacht's 
pinnace,  and  some  of  us  wonder  if  they  are  good  sail- 
ors. The  waves  which  do  not  stir  the  "Britannic," 
and  only  gently  move  the  "  Blackbird,"  fairly  toss  the 
"  Yosemite's  "  boat ;  but  the  occupants  appear  to  be 
quite  at  home  in  her.  She  disappears  around  the 
"  Britannic's  "  bows  to  make  the  port  side  for  boarding, 
and  as  she  does  so  Mr.  Irving  suddenly  appears  be- 
tween the  gangway  and  the  ship's  boats,  on  a  level 
with  the  deck  of  the  "Blackbird"  about  midships. 
"  There  he  is  ! "  shout  a  score  of  voices.  He  looks 
pale  in  the  cold,  raw  light ;  but  he  smiles  pleasantly, 
and  takes  off  a  felt  bowler  hat  as  the  "  Blackbird  "  gives 
him  a  cheer  of  welcome. 

"  Won't  you  come  here  ?  The  quarantine  authorities 
object  to  our  visiting  the  ship  until  the  doctor  has 
left  her." 

A  plank  is  thrust  from  our  paddle-box,  Irving  climbs 
the  "  Britannic's  "  bulwark,  and  grasps  a  hand  held  out 
to  steady  him  as  he  clambers  aboard  the  "  Blackbird" 
right  in  the  midst  of  the  interviewers.  Shaking  hands 
with  his  manager,  Mr.  Abbey,  and  others,  he  is  intro- 
duced to  some  of  the  pressmen,  who  scon  his  face  and 
figure  with  undisguised  interest.  By  this  time  Messrs. 
Barrett  and  Florence  appear  on  the  "Britannic."  They 
have  got  safely  out  of  their  boat  and  have  a  breezy  and 
contented  expression  in  their  eyes.  Irving  now  recrosses 
the  temporary  gangway,  and  is  fairly  embraced  by  his 
two  American  friends.     The  band  strikes  up,  "  Hail  to 


NEW  YORK. 


49 


tlic  Chief ! "  Then  the  gentlemen  of  the  press  are 
invited  to  join  Mr.  Irving  on  board  the  "  Yosemite." 
They  are  arrested  by  w^hat  one  of  them  promptly  desig- 
nates "  a  vision  of  pre-Raphaelitish  beauty."  It  is 
Miss  Ellen  Terry. ^  Every  hat  goes  off  as  she  comes 
gayly  through  the  throng.  "Portia,  on  a  trip  from  the 
Venetian  seas  ! "  exclaims  an  enthusiastic  young  jour- 
nalist, endeavoring  to  cap  the  aesthetic  compliment  of  his 
neighbor.  Escorted  by  Mr.  Barrett,  and  introduced  by 
Mr.  Irving,  she  is  deeply  moved,  as  ^vcll  she  may  be, 
by  the  novel  sCene.  "  Britannic  "  passengers  crovrd 
about  her  to  say  good-by  ;  the  band  is  playing  "  Rule, 
Britannia"  ;  many  a  gay  river  boat  and  steamer  is  navi- 
gating the  dancing  waters  ;  the  sun  is  shining,  flags  flut- 
tering, and  a  score  of  hands  are  held  out  to  help  Portia 
down  the  gangway  on  board  the  "  Yosemite,"  which  is 
as  trim  and  bright  and  sturdy  in  its  way  as  a  British 
gun-boat.  While  the  heroine  of  the  trip  is  taking  her 
scat  on  deck,  and  kissing  her  hand  to  the  "  Britannic," 
the  "  Yosemite "  drives  ahead  of  the  ocean  steamer. 
Mv.  Indog  goes  down  into  the  spacious  cabin,  which 

1  The  "  Tribune's "  reporter  drew  Miss  Terry's  picture  with  studied 
elaboration :  — 

"As  she  stepped  with  a  pretty  little  shudder  over  the  swaying  plank  upon 
the  yacht  she  showed  herself  possessed  of  a  marked  individuality.  Ilcr 
dress  consisted  of  a  dark  grccnish-brown  cloth  wrap,  lined  inside  with  a 
peculiar  shade  of  red;  the  inner  di'ess,  girt  at  the  waist  Avith  a  red,  loosely 
folded  sash,  seemed  a  reminiscence  of  some  eighteenth-century  portrait} 
while  the  delicate  complexion  caught  a  I'osy  reflection  from  the  loose  flame- 
colored  red  scarf  tied  in  a  bow  at  the  neck.  The  face  itself  is  a  peculiar 
one.  Though  not  by  ordinaiy  canons  beautiful,  it  is  nevertheless  one  to  be 
remembered,  and  seems  to  have  been  modelled  on  that  of  some  pre- 
Eaphaclitish  saint,  —  an  effect  heightened  by  the  aureole  of  soft  golden  hair 
escaping  from  under  the  plain  brown  straw  and  brown  velvet  hat. 


50 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


is  crowded  with  the  gentlemen  against  whose  sharp 
and  inquisitive  interrogations  he  has  been  so  persist- 
ently warned. 

V. 

"Well,  gentlemen,  you  want  to  talk  to  me,"  he 
says,  lighting  a  cigar,  and  offering  his  case  to  his  near- 
est neighbors. 

The  reporters  look  at  him  and  smile.  They  have 
had  a  brief  consultation  as  to  which  of  them  shall  open 
the  business,  but  without  coming  to  any  definite 
arrangement.  Irving,  scanning  the  kindly  faces,  is  no 
doubt  smiling  inwardly  at  the  picture  which  his  Lon- 
don friend  had  drawn  of  the  interviewers.  He  is  the 
least  embarrassed  of  the  company.  Nobody  seems 
inclined  to  talk ;  yet  every  movement  of  Irving  invites 
interrogatory  attack.  ' 

"  A  little  champagne,  gentlemen,"  suggests  Mr. 
Florence,  pushing  his  way  before  the  ship's  steward 
and  waiters. 

"And  chicken,"  says  Irving,  smiling;  "that  is  how 
we  do  it  in  London,  they  say." 

This  point  is  lost,  however,  upon  the  reporters,  a 
few  of  whom  e  ^  their  champagne,  but  not  with  any- 
thing like  fervor.  They  have  been  waiting  many  hours 
to  interview  Irving,  and  they  want  to  do  it.  I  fancy 
they  are  afraid  of  each  other. 

"Now,  gentlemen,"  says  Irving,  "time  flies,  and  I 
have  a  dread  of  you.  I  have  looked  forward  to  this 
meeting,  not  without  pleasure,  but  with  much  appre- 
hension.    Don't  ask  me  how  I  like  America  at  present. 


NEW  YORK. 


51 


I  shall,  I  am  sure  ;  and  I  think  the  bay  superb.  There, 
I  place  myself  at  your  mercy.     Don't  spare  me." 

Everybody  laughs.  Barrett  and  Florence  look  on 
curiously.  Bram  Stoker,  Mr.  Irving's  acting  mana- 
ger, cannot  disguise  his  anxiety.  Lovcday,  his  stage- 
manajrer  and  old  friend,  is  amused.  He  has  heard 
many  curious  things  about  Amo'ica  from  his  brother 
George,  who  accompanied  the  famous  English  come- 
dian, Mr.  J.  L.  Toole  (one  of  Irving's  oldest,  and 
perhaps  his  most  intimate,  friend),  on  his  American 
tour.  Neither  Lovcday  nor  Stoker  has  ever  crossed 
the  Atlantic  before.  They  have  talked  of  it,  and 
pictured  themselves  steaming  up  the  North  river  into 
New  York  many  a  time ;  but  they  find  their  forecast 
utterly  unlike  the  original. 

"What  about  his  mannerisms?"  says  one  reporter 
to  another.  "  I  notice  nothing  strange,  nothing  outre 
either  in  his  speech  or  walk." 

"He  seems  perfectly  natural  to  me,"  the  other  re- 
plies ;  and  it  is  this  first  "revelation  "  that  has  evidently 
tongue-tied  the  "  reportorial "  company.  They  have 
read  so  much  about  the  so-called  eccentricities  of  the 
English  visitor's  personality  that  they  cannot  over- 
come their  surprise  at  finding  themselves  addressed  by 
a  gentleman  whose  grace  of  manner  reminds  them 
rather  of  the  polished  ease  of  Lord  Coleridge  than 
of  the  bizarre  figure  with  which  caricature,  pictorially 
and  otherwise,  has  familiarized  them. 

"We  are  all  very  glad  to  see  you,  sir,  and  to  wel- 
come you  to  New  York,"  says  one  of  the  interviewers, 
present!  v. 


51 


IMPIiESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


"Thank  you  with  all  my  heart,"  says  Irving. 

"And  we  would  like  to  ask  you  a  few  questions,  and 
to  have  you  talk  about  your  plans  in  this  country. 
You  open  in  '  The  Bells, '  —  that  wai>  one  of  your  first 
great  successes  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"  You  will  produce  your  plays  here  just  in  the  same 
way  as  in  London  ?  "  chimes  in  a  second  interviewer. 

"  With  the  same  effects,  and,  as  far  as  possible, 
with  the  same  cast  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"And what  are  your  particular  effects,  for  instance, 
in  'The  Bells  '  and  *  Louis  XI.,'  say,  as  regard  mount- 
ing and  lighting?" 

"Well,  gentlemen,"  answers  Irving,  laying  aside 
his  cigar  and  folding  his  arms,  "I  will  explain.  In 
the  first  place,  in  visiting  America,  I  determined  I 
would  endeavor  to  do  justice  to  myself,  to  the  theatre, 
and  to  you.  I  was  told  I  might  come  alone  as  a  star, 
or  I  might  come  with  a  few  members  of  my  company, 
and  that  I  would  be  sure  to  make  money.  That  did 
not  represent  any  part  of  my  desire  in  visiting 
America.  The  pleasure  of  seeing  the  Now  World,  the 
ambition  to  win  its  favor  and  its  friendship,  and  to  show 
it  some  of  the  work  we  do  at  the  Lyceum, — these 
are  my  reasons  for  being  here.  I  have,  therefore, 
brought  my  company  and  my  scenery.  Miss  Ellen 
Terry,  one  of  the  most  perfect  and  charming  actresses 
that  ever  graced  the  English  stage,  consented  to  share 
our  fortunes  in  this  great  enterprise ;  so  I  bring  you 
almost  literally  the  Lyceum  Theatre." 


NEW  YORK. 


53 


" How  many  artists,  sir?  " 

"  Oil,  counting  the  entire  company  and  staff,  some- 
where between  sixty  and  seventy,  I  suppose.  Fifty 
of  them   have   already  an'ived  here  in   the  'City  of 

Home.'" 

"  In  what  order  do  you  ])roduce  your  pieces  here  ?  " 

"'The  Bells,'  'Charles,'  'The  Lyons  Mail,'  'The 
Merchant  of  Venice,'  we  do  first." 

"  Have  you  any  particular  reason  for  the  sequence  of 
them?" 

"My  idea  is  to  produce  my  Lyceum  successes  in 
their  order,  as  they  were  done  in  London ;  1  thought 
it  would  be  interesting  to  show  the  series  one  after  the 
other  in  that  way." 

"  When  do  you  play  'Hamlet? '" 

"  On  my  return  to  New  York  in  the  spring." 

"  Any  special  reason  for  that  ?  " 

"A  managerial  one.  We  propose  to  keep  one  or 
two  novelties  for  our  second  visit.  Probably  we  shall 
reserve  'Much  Ado'  as  well  as  'Hamlet.'  Moreover, 
a  month  is  too  short  a  time  for  us  to  get  through  our 
repertoire." 

"  In  which  part  do  you  think  you  most  excel  ?  " 

"Which  do  you  like  most  of  all  your  range  of 
characters  ?  " 

"  What  is  your  opinion  of  Mr.  Booth  as  an  actor  ?  " 

These  questions  come  from  different  parts  of  the 
crowd.  It  reminds  me  of  the  scene  between  an 
English  parliamentary  candidate  and  a  caucus  con- 
stituency, with  the  exception  that  the  American 
questioners  are  quite  friendly  and  respectful,  their  chief 


54 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


desire  evidently  being  to  give  Mr.  Irving  texts  upon 
which  he  can  speak  with  interest  to  their  readers. 

"  Mr.  Booth  and  I  are  warm  friends.  It  is  not 
necessary  to  tell  you  that  he  is  a  great  actor.  I  acted 
with  him  many  subordinate  parts  when  he  first  came  to 
England,  about  twenty  years  ago." 

"  What  do  you  think  is  his  finest  impersonation  ? " 

"I  would  say  'Lear,'  though  I  believe  the  Ameri- 
can verdict  would  be  'Richelieu.'  Singularly  enough 
'Richelieu'  is  not  a  popular  play  in  England.  Mr. 
Booth's  mad  scene  in  'Lear,'  I  am  told,  is  superb. 
I  did  not  see  it ;  but  I  can  speak  of  Othello  and 
lago  :  both  are  fine  performances." 

"You  played  in  'Othello'  with  Mr.  Booth  in 
London  you  say  ?  " 

"  I  produced  '  Othello '  especially  for  Mr.  Booth, 
and  played  lago  for  the  first  time  on  that  occasion. 
We  afterwards  alternated  the  parts." 

"  Shakespeai^s  is  popular  in  England,  —  more  so  now 
than  for  some  years  past,  I  believe?" 

"Yes." 

"  What  has  been  the  moiive-power  in  this  revival?" 

"England  has  to-day  many  Shakespearian  societies, 
and  our  countrymen  read  the  poet  much  more  than  they 
did  five  and  twenty  years  ago.  As  a  rule  our  fathers 
obtained  their  knowledge  of  iiim  fiom  the  theatre,  and 
were  often,  of  course,  greatly  misled  as  to  the  meaning 
and  intention  of  the  poet,  under  the  manipulation  of 
CoUey  Cibber  and  others." 

"  Which  of  Shakespeare's  plays  is  most  popular  in 
England?" 


NEW  YORK. 


m 


9" 


in 


"*  Hamlet.'  And,  singularly,  the  next  one  is  not 
*  Julius  Cassar,'  which  is  the  most  popular  after  '  Ham- 
let,' I  believe,  in  your  country.  '  Othello '  might 
possibly  rank  second  with  us,  if  it  were  not  difficult  to 
get  two  equally  good  actors  for  the  two  leading  parts. 
Salvini's  Othello,  for  instance,  suffered  because  the 
lago  was  weak." 

"  You  don't  play  'Julius  Caisar,'  then,  in  England?  " 

"No.  There  is  a  difficulty  in  filling  worthily  the 
three  leading  parts." 

By  this  time  Mr.  Irving  is  on  the  most  comfortable 
and  familiar  terms  with  the  gentlemen  of  the  press, 
lie  has  laid  aside  his  cigar,  and  smiles  often  with  a 
curious  and  amused  expression  of  face. 

"  You  must  find  this  kind  of  work,  this  interviewing, 
very  difficult,"  he  says,  presently,  in  a  tone  of  friendly 
banter. 

"Sometimes,"  answers  one  of  them;  and  they  all 
laugh,  entering  into  the  spirit  of  the  obvious  fun  of  a 
victim  \vho  is  not  suffering  half  as  much  as  he  expected 
to  do,  and  who  indeed,  is,  on  the  whole,  very  well 
satisfied  with  himself. 

"  Don't  you  think  we  might  go  on  deck  now  and  see 
the  harbor?"  he  asks. 

"Oh,  yes,"  they  all  say;  and  in  a  few  minutes  the 
"Yosemite's"  pretty  saloon  is  vacated. 

Mr.  Irving  and  his  friends  go  forward ;  Miss  Terry 
is  aft,  in  charge  of  Mr.  Barrett.  She  is  looking  intently 
doAvn  the  river  at  the  far-off  "  Britannic,"  which  is  now 
beginning  to  move  forward  in  our  wake,  the  "  Yosemite" 
leaving  behind  her  a  long,  white  track  of  foam. 


56 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


The  interviewers  are  again  busily  engaged  with 
Mr.  Irving.  He  is  once  more  the  centre  of  an  inter- 
ested group  of  men.  Not  one  of  them  takes  a  note. 
They  seem  to  be  putting  all  he  says  down  in  their 
minds.  They  are  accustomed  to  tax  their  memories. 
One  catches,  in  the  expression  of  their  faces,  evidence 
of  something  like  an  inter-vision.  They  seem  to  be 
ticking  off,  in  their  minds,  the  points  as  the  speaker 
makes  them ;  for  Irving  now  appears  to  be  talking  as 
much  for  liis  own  amusement  as  for  the  public  instruc- 
tion. He  finds  that  he  has  a  quick,  intelligent,  and 
attentive  audience,  and  the  absence  of  note-books  and 
anything  like  a  show  of  machinery  for  recording  his 
words  puts  him  thoroughly  at  his  ease.  Then  he  likes 
to  talk  "  shop "  ;  as  who  does  not?  And  what  is  rnore 
delightful  to  hear  than  experts  on  their  own  work  ? 

"  Do  your  American  audiences  applaud  much  ?  "  he 
asks. 

"  Yes,"  they  said ;  "oh,  yes." 

"Because,  you  know,  your  Edwin  Forrest  once 
stopped  in  the  middle  of  a  scene  and  addressed  his 
audience  on  the  subject  of  their  silence.  '  You  must 
applaud,'  he  said,  *  or  I  cannot  act.'  I  quite  sympa- 
thize with  that  feeling.  An  actor  needs  applause.  It 
is  his  life  and  soul  when  he  is  on  the  stage.  The  enthu- 
siasm of  the  audience  reacts  upon  him.  He  gives 
them  back  heat  for  heat.  If  they  are  cordial  he  is 
encouraged ;  if  they  are  excited  so  is  he ;  as  they 
respond  to  his  efforts  he  tightens  his  grip  upon  their 
imagination  and  emotions.  You  have  no  pit  in  your 
American  theatres,  as  we  have ;  that  is,  your  stalls,  or 


NEW  YORK. 


57 


parquet,  cover  the  entire  floor.  It  is  to  the  quick  feel- 
ings and  heartiness  of  the  pit  and  gallery  that  an  actor 
looks  for  encouragement  during  his  great  scenes  in 
England.  Our  stalls  are  appreciative,  but  not  demon- 
strative.    Our  pit  and  gallery  are  both."  r- 

Irving,  when  particularly  moved,  likes  to  tramp 
about.  Whenever  the  situation  allows  it  he  does  so 
upon  the  stage.  Probably  recalling  the  way  in  which  pit 
and  gallery  rose  at  him  —  and  stalls  and  dress-circle, 
too,  for  that  matter — on  his  farewell  night  at  the 
Lyceum,  he  paces  about  the  deck,  all  the  interviewers 
making  rapid  mental  note  of  his  gait,  and  watching  for 
some  startling  peculiarity  that  does  not  manifest  itself. 

"  He  has  not  got  it ;  why,  the  man  is  as  natural  and 
as  straight  and  capable  as  a  man  can  be,"  says  one  to 
another. 

"  And  a  real  good  fellow,"  is  the  response.  '*  Ask 
him  about  Vanderbilt  and  the  mirror." 

"  O  Mr.  Irving  !  — just  one  more  question." 

"  As  many  as  you  like,  my  friend,"  is  the  ready  reply. 

"Is  it  true  that  you  are  to  be  the  guest  of  Mr. 
VanderbUt?" 

"  And  be  surrounded  with  ingeniously  constructed 
mirrors,  where  I  can  see  myself  always,  and  all  at  once? 
[  have  heard  strange  stories  about  Mr.  Vanderbilt  hav- 
ing had  a  wonderful  mirror  of  this  kind  constructed  for 
my  use,  so  that  I  may  pose  before  it  in  all  my  loveliest 
attitudes.  Something  of  the  kind  has  been  said,  eh?" 
he  asks,  laughing. 

"  Oh,  yes,  that  is  so,"  is  the  mirthful  response. 

"  Then  you  may  contradict  it,  if  you  will.    You  may 


58 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


say  that  I  am  here  for  work  ;  that  I  shall  have  no  time 
to  be  any  one's  guest,  though  I  hope  the  day  may  come 
when  I  shall  have  leisure  to  visit  my  friends.  You  may 
add,  if  you  will"  (here  he  lowered  his  voice  with  a  little 
air  of  mystery) ,  "  that  I  always  carry  a  mirror  of  my 
own  about  with  me  wherever  I  go,  because  I  love  to 
pose  and  contemplate  my  lovely  figure  whenever  the 
opportunity  offers." 

"That  will  do,  I  guess,"  says  a  gentleman  of  the 
interviewing  staff;  "thank  you,  Mr.  Irving,  for  your 
courtesy  and  information." 

"  I  am  obliged  to  you  very  much,"  he  says,  and  then, 
having  his  attention  directed  to  the  first  view  of  New 
York,  expresses  his  wonder  and  delight  at  the  scene, 
as  well  he  may. 

Ahead  the  towers  and  spires  of  New  York  stand  out 
in  a  picturesque  outline  against  the  sky.  On  either 
hand  the  water-line  is  fringed  with  the  spars  of  ships 
and  steamers.  On  the  left  stretches  far  away  the  low- 
lying  shore  of  New  Jersey ;  on  the  right,  Brooklyn 
can  be  seen,  rising  upwards,  a  broken  line  of  roofs  and 
steeples.  Further  away,  joining  "  the  city  of  churches  " 
to  Manhattan,  hangs  in  mid-air  that  marvel  of  science, 
the  triple  carriage,  foot,  and  rail  road  known  as  the 
Brooklyn  bridge.  Around  the  "Yosemite,"  as  she 
ploughs  along  towards  her  quay,  throng  many  busy 
steamers,  outstripping,  in  the  race  for  port,  fleets  of 
sailing  vessels  that  are  beating  up  the  broad  reaches  of 
the  river  before  the  autumn  wind. 


f>^ 


NEW  YORK. 


59 


"  She  is  not  quite  pretty,"  says  a  New  York  reporter, 
turning  to  me  during  his  contemplation  of  Miss  Terry, 
who  is  very  picturesque  as  she  sits  by  the  taffrail  at  tlie 
stern ;  "  but  she  is  handsome,  and  she  is  distinguished. 
I  think  we  would  like  to  ask  her  a  few  questions ;  will 
you  introduce  us  ?  "  .. 

I  do  the  honors  of  this  presentation.  Miss  Terry  is 
too  much  under  the  influence  of  the  wonderful  scene 
that  meets  her  gaze  to  receive  the  reporters  with  calm- 
ness. 

"  And  this  is  New  York  !  "  she  exclaims.  "  What  a 
surprising  place  '  And,  oh,  what  a  river  !  So  diiferent 
to  the  Thames  !  And  to  think  that  I  am  in  New  York  I 
It  does  not  seem  possible.     I  cannot  realize  it." 

"  If  you  had  a  message  to  send  home  to  your  friends, 
Miss  Terry,  what  would  it  be?  "  asks  Reporter  No.  1, 
a  more  than  usually  bashful  young  man. 

The  question  is  a  trifle  unfortunate. 

"  Tell  them  I  never  loved  home  so  well  as  now,"  she 
answers,  in  her  frank,  impulsive  way. 

She  turns  her  head  away  to  hide  her  tears,  and  Re- 
porter No.  2  remonstrates  with  his  companion. 

"I  wouldn't  have  said  it  for  anything,"  says  No.  1. 
"I  was  thinking  how  I  would  add  a  few  words  for 
her  to  my  London  cable,  —  that's  a  fact." 

"It  is  very  foolish  of  me,  pray  excuse  me,"  says  the 
lady ;  "  it  is  all  so  new  and  strange.  I  know  my  eyes 
are  red,  and  this  is  not  the  sort  of  face  to  go  into  New 
York  with,  is  it?" 


60 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA, 


"I  think  New  York  will  be  quite  satisfied,  Miss 
Terry,"  says  a  third  reporter ;  "  but  don't  let  us  distress 
you." 

"  Oh,  no,  I  am  quite  myself  now.  You  want  to  ask 
me  some  questions  ?  " 

"Not  if  you  object." 

"  I  don't  object ;  only  you  see  one  has  been  looking 
forward  to  this  day  a  long  time,  and  seeing  land  again 
and  houses,  and  so  many  ships,  and  New  York  itself, 
may  well  excite  a  stranger." 

"Yes,  indeed,  that  is  so,"  remarks  No.  1,  upon 
whom  she  turns  quickly,  the  "Liberty"  scarf  at  her  neck 
flying  in  the  wind,  and  her  earnest  eyes  flashing. 

"  Have  you  ever  felt  what  it  is  to  be  a  stranger  just 
entering  a  strange  land  ?  If  not  you  can  hardly  realize 
ray  sensations.  Not  that  I  have  any  fears  about  my 
reception.  No,  it  is  not  that ;  the  Americans  on  the 
ship  were  so  kind  to  me,  and  you  are  so  very  consid- 
erate, that  I  am  sure  everybody  ashore  will  be  friendly.'* 

"  Do  you  know  Miss  Anderson  ?  " 

"Yes.  She  is  a  beautiful  woman.  I  have  not  seen 
her  upon  the  stage  ;  but  I  have  met  her." 

"  Do  you  consider  '  Charles  I.'  will  present  you  to  a 
New  York  audience  in  one  of  your  best  characters  ?  " 

"No  ;  and  I  am  not  very  fond  of  the  part  of  Henrietta 
Maria  either." 

"  What  are  your  favorite  characters  ?  " 

"Oh,  I  hardly  know,"  she  says,  now  fairly  interested 
in  the  conversation ;  and  turning  easily  towards  her 
questioners,  for  the  first  time,  "  I  love  nearly  all  I  play  ; 
but  I  don't  like  to  cry,  and  I  cannot  help  it  in  '  Charles 


NEW  YORK. 


61 


I.*  I  like  comedy  best, — Portia,  Beatrice,  andLetitia 
Hardy." 

"Do  you  intend  to  star  on  your  own  account ? " 

"No,  no." 

"  You  prefer  to  cast  your  fortunes  with  the  Lyceum 
company  ?  " 

"Yes,  certainly.  Sufficient  for  the  day  is  the 
Lyceum  thereof.  There  is  no  chance  of  my  ever  de- 
siring to  change.  I  am  devoted  to  the  Lyceum,  and 
to  Mr.  Irving.  No  one  admires  him  more  than  I  do  ; 
no  one  knows  better,  I  think,  how  much  he  has  done 
for  our  art ;  no  one  dreams  of  how  much  more  he  will 
yet  do  if  he  it  spared.  I  used  to  think,  when  I  was 
with  Charles  K^an,  —  I  served  my  apprenticeship,  you 
know,  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Charles  Kean, — that  his 
performances  and  mounting  of  plays  were  perfect  in 
their  way.  But  look  at  Mr.  Irving's  work ;  look  at 
what  he  has  done  and  what  he  doos,.  I  am  sure  you 
will  be  delighted  with  him.  Excuse  me,  is  that  the 
'Britannic '  yonder,  following  in  our  wake  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

She  kisses  her  hand  to  the  vessel,  and  then  turns  to 
wonder  at  the  city,  which  seems  to  be  coming  towards 
us,  so  steadily  does  the  "Yosemite"  glide  along, 
hardly  suggesting  motion. 

Then  suddenly  the  word  is  passed  that  the  "Yosemite  " 
is  about  to  land  her  passengers.  A  few  minutes  later 
she  slips  alongside  the  wharf  at  the  foot  of  Canal  street. 
The  reporters  take  their  leave,  raising  their  hats  to 
Miss  Terry,  mony  of  them  shaking  hands  with  Mr. 
Irving.     Carriages  are  in  waiting  for  Mr.  Barrett  and 


62 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


his  party.  A  small  crowd,  learning  who  the  new- 
comers were,  give  them  a  cheer  of  welcome,  and 
Henry  Irving  and  Ellen  Terry  stand  upon  American 
soil. 

"  I  am  told,"  says  Mr.  Irving,  as  we  drive  away, 
"  that  when  Jumbo  arrived  in  New  York  he  put  out  his 
foot  and  felt  if  the  ground  was  solid  enough  to  bear  his 
weight.  The  New  Yorkers,  I  believe,  were  very  much 
amused  at  that.  They  have  a  keen  sense  of  fun. 
Where  are  we  going  now  ?  " 

"  To  the  Customs,  at  the  White  Star  wharf,  to  sign 
your  declaration  papers,"  says  Mr.  Florence. 

"  How  many  packages  have  you  in  your  state-room, 
madame?"  asks  a  sturdy  official,  addressing  Miss 
Terry. 

"  Well,  really  I  don't  know  ;  three  or  four,  I  think." 

"Not  more  than  that?"  suggests  Mr.  Barrett. 

"Perhaps  five  or  six." 

"  Not  any  more  ?  "  asks  the  official.  "  Shall  I  say 
five  or  six  ?  " 

"Well,  really,  I  cannot  say.  Where's  my  maid? 
Is  it  important,  —  the  exact  number? " 

There  is  a  touch  of  bewilderment  in  her  manner 
which  amuses  the  officials,  and  everybody  laughs  —  she 
herself  very  heartily  —  when  her  maid  says  there  are 
fourteen  packages  of  various  kinds  in  the  state-room 
of  the  "  Britannic,"  which  is  now  discharging  her 
passengers.  A  scene  of  bustle  and  excitement  is 
developing  just  as  we  are  permitted  to  depart.  A 
famous  politician  is  on  board.  There  is  a  procession, 
with  a  band  of  music,  to  meet  him.     Crowds  of  poor 


NEW  YORK. 


68 


people  are  pushing  forward  for  the  "  Britannic  "  gang- 
way to  meet  a  crowd  of  still  poorer  emigrant  friends. 
Imposing  equipages  are  here  to  carry  off  the  rich  and 
prosperous  travellers.  Tons  of  portmanteaus,  trunks, 
boxes,  baggage  of  every  kind,  are  sliding  from  the  ves- 
sel's side  upon  the  quay.  Friends  are  greeting  friends. 
Children  are  being  hugged  by  fathers  and  mothers. 
Ship's  stewards  arc  hurrying  to  and  fro.  The  express- 
man, jingling  his  brass  checks,  is  looking  for  business  ; 
his  carts  are  fighting  their  way  among  the  attendant 
carriages  and  more  ponderous  wagons.  A  line  of 
Custom-House  men  form  in  line,  a  living  cord  of  blue 
and  silver,  across  the  roadway  exit  of  the  wharf.  There 
is  a  smell  of  tar  and  coffee  and  baked  peanuts  in  the 
atmosphere,  together  with  the  sound  of  many  voices ; 
and  the  bustle  repeats  itself  outside  in  the  rattle  of  arriv- 
ing and  departing  carts  and  carriages.  Above  all  one 
hears  the  pleasant  music  of  distant  car-bells.  We 
dash  along,  over  level  crossings,  past  very  continental- 
looking  river-side  cabarets  and  rum-shops,  under 
elevated  railroads,  and  up  streets  that  recall  Holland, 
France,  Brighton,  and  Liverpool,  until  we  reach 
Washington  square.  The  dead  leaves  of  autumn  are 
beginning  to  hide  the  fading  grass ;  but  the  sun  is 
shining  gloriously  away  up  in  a  blue  sky.  Irving  is 
impressed  with  the  beauty  of  tlie  city  as  we  enter  Fifth 
avenue,  its  many  spires  marking  the  long  line  of  street 
as  far  as  the  eye  can  see.  The  Brevoort  House  has 
proved  a  welcome,  if  expensive,  haven  of  rest  to  many 
a  weary  traveller.  To-day  its  bright  windows  and  green 
sun-blinds,  its  white  marble  steps,  and  its  wholesome 


64 


IMPEESSI0N8  OF  AMERICA. 


aspect  of  homelike  comfort,  suggest  the  pleasantest 
possibilities. 

Let  us  leave  the  latest  of  its  guests  to  his  first 
experiences  of  the  most  hotel-keeping  nation  in  the 
world. 


FIRST  IMPRESSIONS. 


6I> 


in. 


FIRST  IMPRESSIONS. 

Union  Squawj,  New  York  —  An  Entcrprisinpf  Chronicler  —  The  Lambs  — 
The  Newspapers  and  the  Ncw-coracrs —  "  Art  Must  Advance  with  the 
Times  "  —  "  Romeo  and  Juliet "  at  the  Lyceum  —  "  Character  Pai-ts  "  — 
No  Ileal  Tradition  of  Shakespearian  Acting  —  "Mannerisms" — Tho 
Stage  as  an  Educator  —  Lafayette  Place  —  A  Notable  Little  Dinner — 
The  Great  American  Bird,  "  Not  tlie  Eagle,  but  the  Duck  " — A  Ques- 
tion of  "  Appropriate  Music  "  —  Speculators  in  Tickets  and  their  Enor- 
mous Profits — Middlemen,  the  Star  Theatre,  and  the  Play-going 
Public. 

I. 

"It  is  not  like  my  original  idea  of  it,  so  far,"  said 
Irving,  the  next  morning,  —  "  this  city  of  New  York. 
The  hotel,  the  Fifth  avenue,  the  people,  —  everything 
is  a  little  different  to  one's  anticipations ;  and  yet  it 
seems  to  me  that  I  have  seen  it  all  before.  It  is  Lon- 
don and  Paris  combined.  I  have  been  'round  to  call 
on  Miss  Terry.  She  is  at  what  she  calls  '  The  Hotel  — 
ahem!' — the  Hotel  Dam,  in  Union  square.  Dam  is 
the  proprietor.  It  is  a  handsome  house.  A  fine 
square.  The  buildings  are  very  tall.  The  cars,  run- 
ning along  the  streets,  their  many  bells,  the  curious 
wire-drawn  look  of  the  wheels  of  private  carriages, — 
all  a  little  odd.  Fifth  avenue  is  splendid  I  And  what 
a  glorious  sky  !  " 

He  rattled  on,  amused  and  interested,  as  he  stood  in 
the  back  room  of  his  suite  of  three  on  the  ground  floor 
at  the  Brevoort. 


66 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


"Several  interviewers  in  there,"  he  said,  pointing  to 
the  folding-doors  that  sliut  us  out  from  the  other  apart- 
ment. "  One  reporter  wanted  to  attend  regularly,  and 
chronicle  all  I  did,  —  where  I  went  to,  and  how  ;  what 
I  ate,  and  when ;  he  wished  to  have  a  record  of  every- 
body who  called,  what  they  said,  and  what  I  said  to 
them." 

"An  enterprising  chronicler  ;  probably  a  'liner,'  as  we 
should  call  him  on  the  other  side, — a  liner  unattached." 

"  He  was  very  civil.  I  thanked  him,  and  made  him 
understand  that  I  am  modest,  and  do  not  like  so  much 
attention  as  he  suggests.  But  these  other  gentlemen, 
let  us  see  them  together." 

It  was  very  interesting  to  hear  Irving  talk  to  his 
visitors,  one  after  the  other,  about  his  art  and  his  work. 
I  had  never  seen  him  in  such  good  conversational  form 
before.  So  far  from  resisting  his  interrogators,  he 
enjoyed  their  questions,  and,  at  the  same  time,  often 
puzzled  them  with  his  answers.  Some  of  his  visitors 
came  with  minds  free  and  unprejudiced  to  receive  his 
impressions  ;  with  pens  ready  to  record  them.  Others 
had  evidently  read  up  for  the  interview  ;  they  had  turned 
over  the  pages  of  Hazlitt,  Lamb,  and  Shakespeare  with 
a  purpose.  Others  had  clearly  studied  the  ingenious 
pamphlet  of  Mr.  Archer ;  these  had  odd  questions  to 
ask,  and  were  amazed  at  the  quickness  of  Irving's  re- 
partee. As  a  rule  they  reported  the  new-comer  cor- 
rectly. The  mistakes  they  made  were  trivial,  though 
some  of  them  might  have  seemed  important  in  preju- 
diced eyes.  I  propose,  presently,  to  give  an  example 
of  this  journalistic  work. 


FIRST  IMPRESSIONS. 


67 


After  dinner  Mr.  Irving  went  to  a  quiet  little  re- 
ception at  the  house  of  a  friend,  and  at  night  he 
visited  the  Lambs  Club.  The  members  arc  princi- 
pally actors,  and  Sunday  night  is  their  only  holiday. 
Once  a  month  they  dine  together.  On  this  niglit  they 
held  their  first  meeting  of  the  season.  The  rooms  were 
crowded.  Irving  was  welcomed  with  three  cheers. 
Mr.  William  Florence,  Mr.  Raymond,  Mr.  Henry  Ed- 
wards, Mr.  Howson,  and  other  well-known  actors 
introduced  him  to  their  brother  members,  and  a  com- 
mittee was  at  once  formed  to  arrange  a  date  when  the 
club  could  honor  itself  and  its  guest  with  a  special 
dinner. 

"  It  is  very  delightful  to  be  so  cordially  received," 
said  Irving,  "  by  my  brother  actors.  I  shall  be 
proud  to  accept  your  hospitality  on  any  evening 
that  is  convenient  to  you.  It  must  be  on  a  Sunday, 
of  course.  I  am  told  New  York  is  strict  in  its  observ- 
ance of  Sunday.  Well,  I  am  glad  of  it,  — it  is  the 
actor's  only  day  of  rest." 


n. 

On  Monday  morning  the  newspapers,  from  one  end 
of  the  United  States  to  the  other,  chronicled  the  arrival 
of  Mr.  Irving  and  Miss  Terry.  The  New  York  jour- 
nals rivalled  each  othe/  in  columns  of  bright  descrip- 
tive matter,  with  headings  in  more  than  customary 
detail.  The  "Herald"  commenced  its  announcement 
in  this  way :  — 


IMPBES8I0N8  OE  AMEBIGA. 


IRVING  — TERRY. 


Arrival  of  the  Famous  English  Actor  and  the  Leading  Lady 

of  the  Lyceum. 


A  Hearty  Welcome  Down  the  Bay  by  Old  Friends. 


AN  INTERVIEW  WITH  Mli.  IRVING. 


His  Views  on  the  Drama  anu  Stage  of  To-day. 


PLANS   FOR   THE  FUTURE. 


The  "  Sun  "  greeted  its  readers  with,  — 


UP  EARLY  TO  MEET  IRVING! 


A  BUSINESS-LIKE  HAMLET  AND  A  JOLLY  OPHELIA 

ARRIVE. 


What  the  Famous  English  Actor  Looks  Like,  and  How  He 

Talks — A  Stentoria»:i  Greeting  Down  at 

Quarantine  before  Breakfast. 

The  "  Morning  Journal "  (th    \test  success  in  cheap 
newspaper  enterprise)  proclaimed :  — 


ENGLAND'S  GREAT  ACTOR. 


Henry  Irving  Cordially  Welcomed  in  the  Lower  Bay. 

He  Tells  of  His  Hopes  and  Fears,  and  Expresses  Delight 
over  Dreaded  Newspaper  Interviewers - 
Miss  Terry  Joyful. 


FIB  ST  IMPBESSIONS. 


69 


A  leading  Western  journal  pays  a  large  salary  to  a 
clever  member  of  its  staff,  whose  duty  is  confined  to 
the  work  of  giving  to  the  varied  news  of  the  day 
attractive  titles.  The  New  York  press  is  less  exuberant 
in  this  direction  than  formerly. 

The  sketches  of  the  arrival  of  the  "Britannic's" 
passengers  are  bright  and  personal.  They  describe 
the  appearance  of  Mr.  Irving  and  Miss  Terry. 
The  vivacity  of  ^liss  Terry  charmed  the  reporters. 
The  quiet  dignity  of  Irving  surprised  and  impressed 
them.  The  "  interviews  "  generally  referred  to  Mr. 
Irving's  trip  across  the  Atlantic ;  his  programme  for 
New  York ;  his  hopes  of  a  successful  tour ;  his  ideas 
of  the  differences  between  American  and  English 
theatres ;  what  he  thought  of  Booth,  and  other  points 
which  I  have  myself  set  forth,  perhaps  more  in  detail 
than  was  possible  for  the  journals,  and,  what  is  more 
important,  from  the  platform  of  an  interested  English 
spectator.  The  following  conversation  is,  in  the  main, 
a  revised  edition  of  an  interview  that  appeared  in 
the  "Herald." 

"  And  now  to  speak  to  you  of  yourself  as  an  actor, 
and  also  of  your  theatre,  —  let  me  ask  you,  to  what 
mainly  do  you  attribute  your  success  ?  " 

"  The  success  I  have  made,  such  as  it  is,  has  been 
made  by  acting  —  by  acting  alone,  whether  good  or 
bad."  1 


1  These  simple  facis  prove  that,  aside  from  his  acting,  with  which  it  is 
not  our  duty  to  deal  at  present,  Mr.  Irving  is  one  of  the  mo;,t  remarkable 
men  of  this  or  any  other  age.  But  he  is  unquestionably  right  when  ho 
asserts  that  he  owes  his  success  to  his  acting  alone.  It  has  been  said  that  the 
splendid  manner  ia  which  he  puts  his  plays  upon  the  stage  is  the  secret  of  his 


70 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


"There  is  a  notion  in  America,  Mr.  Irving,  that 
your  extraordinary  success  is  due  to  your  mise  en  scene 
and  the  research  you  have  given  to  the  proper  mount- 
ing of  your  pieces." 

"  Indeed,  is  that  so  ?  And  yet  '  The  Cup '  and 
*  Romeo  and  Juliet '  were  the  only  two  pieces  I  have 
done  in  which  the  rnise  en  scene  has  been  really 
remarkable.  During  my  early  association  with  the 
Lyceum  nothing  of  that  kind  was  "attempted.  For 
instance,  the  church-yard  scene  in  *  Hamlet'  was  a 
scene  painted  for  *  Eugene  Aram,'  as  the  then  manager 
of  the  Lyceum  (my  old  friend,  Mr.  Bateman),  did 
not  believe  in  the  success  of  *  Hamlet.'  The  run  of 
the  play  was  two  hundred  nights.  I  have  been  asso- 
ciated with  the  Lyceum  since  1871,  eleven  years,  and, 
until  the  production  of  'The  Corsican  Brothers'  and 
*The  Cup,'  in  1880-1881,  no  play  in  which  I  acted 


popularity ;  but  he  first  became  popular  in  plays  which  were  not  splendidly 
mounted,  and  his  greatest  financial  and  artistic  successes  have  been  made 
in  pieces  upon  which  he  expended  no  unusual  decorations.  It  has  been 
said  that  Manager  Bateman  made  Ii-ving ;  but,  as  we  shall  presently  prove, 
Living  made  Manager  Bateman  in  London,  and  has  been  doubly  successful 
since  Manag'?r  Bateman's  death.  It  has  been  said  that  his  leading  lady, 
Ellen  Teny,  is  the  Mascot  of  Irving's  career ;  but  his  fame  was  established 
before  Miss  Teny  joined  his  company,  and  he  has  won  his  proudest  laurels 
in  the  plays  in  which  Miss  Terry  has  not  appeared.  It  has  been  said  that 
the  financial  backing  of  the  Baroness  Burdett-Coutts  gave  Irving  his  oppor- 
tunity;  but  he  had  been  overcrowding  the  London  Lyceum  for  years  be- 
fore he  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  Baroness.  No ;  the  unprecedented 
and  unrivalled  success  of  Mr.  Irving  has  been  made  by  himself  alone.  He 
became  popular  as  an  actor  in  a  stock  company ;  his  popularity  transformed 
him  into  a  star  and  a  manager ;  and,  as  a  star  and  a  manager,  he  has  widened, 
deepened,  and  improved  his  popularity.  He  has  won  his  position  fairly,  by 
his  own  talents  and  exertions,  against  overwhelming  odds,  and  he  has 
nobody  to  thank  for  it  but  himself,  in  spite  of  the  theories  which  we  have 
exploded.  — /Sjpj>j7  ^  </w  Times,  New  York,  Oct.  27, 1883. 


FIRST  IMPBES8I0NS.  71 

had  ever  been  elaborately  mounted.  Before  the  time 
of  these  plays  I  had  acted  in  *The  Bells,'  *  Charles  I.,' 
'Eugene  Aram,'  *  Philip,'  'Richelieu,'  'Hamlet,'  'Mac- 
beth,' 'Louis  XI.,'  'Othello,'  'Richard  III.,'  'The 
Merchant  of  Venice,' '  The  Iron  Chest,'  and  others ; 
and  this,  I  think,  is  sufficient  answer  to  the  statement 
that  my  success  has,  in  any  way,  depended  upon  the 
mounting  of  plays.  When  I  played  '  Hamlet,'  under 
my  own  management,  which  commenced  in  December, 
1878, 1  produced  it  with  great  care  ;  and  many  things, 
in  the  way  of  costume  and  decoration,  which  had  been 
before  neglected,  I  endeavored  to  amend.  But  take, 
for  instance,  'The  Merchant  of  Venice,'  —  it  was  put 
upon  the  stage  in  twenty-three  days." 

"  It  will  be  impossible  for  managers  to  go  back  to 
the  bad  system  of  mounting  formerly  in  vogue,  will  it 
not?" 

"  I  think  so.  Indeed,  it  is  impossible  for  the  stage 
to  go  back  to  what  it  was  in  any  sense.  Art  must 
advance  with  the  times,  and  with  the  advance  of  other 
arts  there  must  necessarily  be  an  advance  of  art  as 
applied  to  the  stage.  In  arranging  the  scenery  for 
'Romeo  and  Juliet 'I  had  in  view  not  only  the  pro- 
ducing of  a  beautiful  picture,  but  the  illustration  of 
the  text.  Every  scene  I  have  done  adds  to  the  poetry 
of  the  play.  It  is  not  done  for  the  sake  of  effect 
merely,  but  to  add  to  the  glamor  of  the  love  story. 
That  was  my  intention,  and  I  think  that  result  was 
attained.  I  believe  everything  in  a  play  that  heightens 
and  assists  the  imagination,  and  in  no  way  hampers  or 
restrains  it,  is  good,  and  ought  to  be  made  use  of.     I 


72 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


think  you  should,  in  every  respect,  give  the  best  you 
can.  For  instance,  Edwin  Booth  and  I  acted  together 
in  *  Othello.'  He  alone  would  have  drawn  a  great 
public  ;  yet  I  took  as  much  pains  with  it  as  any  play  I 
ever  put  uj)on  the  stage.  I  took  comparatively  as 
much  pains  with  the  *  Two  Roses '  and  the  '  Captain  of 
the  Watch'  as  with  '  Rome">  and  Juliet.'  But  there  is 
no  other  play  in  Shakespeare  that  seems  to  me  to  so 
much  require  a  pictorial  setting  as  '  Romeo  and  Juliet.' 
You  could  not  present  plays  nowadays  as  they  formerly 
did,  any  more  than  you  could  treat  them  generally  as 
they  were  treated." 

"  How  did  you  come  to  identify  yourself  so  much 
with  the  revival  of  Shakespearian  acting?" 

"  I  will  try  to  tell  you  briefly  what  I  have  done  since 
I  have  been  before  the  London  public.  Much  against 
the  wish  of  my  friends  I  took  an  engagement  at  the 
Lyceum,  then  under  the  management  of  Mr. 
Bateman.  I  had  successfully  acted  in  many  plays 
besides  'Two  Roses,'  which  ran  three  hundred  nights. 
It  was  thought  by  everybody  interested  in  such  matters 
that  I  ought  to  identify  myself  with  what  they 
called  '  character  parts ' ;  though  what  that  phrase 
means,  by  tha  way,  I  never  could  exactly  understand, 
for  I  have  a  prejudice  in  the  belief  that  every  part 
should  be  a  character.  I  always  wanted  to  play  in  the 
higher  drama.  Even  in  my  boyhood  my  desire  had 
been  in  that  direction.  When  at  the  Vaudeville 
Theatre  I  recited  the  drama  of  '  Eugene  Aram,'  simply 
to  get  an  idea  as  to  whether  I  could  impress  an  audi- 
ence with  a  tragic  theme.     I  hoped  I  could,  and  at 


FIRST  IMPRESSIONS. 


73 


once  made  up  my  mind  to  prepare  myself  to  play 
cliaracters  of  another  type.  When  Mr.  Bateman 
engaged  me  he  told  me  he  would  give  me  an  oppor- 
tunity, if  he  could,  to  play  various  parts,  as  it  was  to 
his  interest  as  much  as  to  mine  to  discover  wliat  he 
thought  would  be  successfid,  —  though,  of  course, 
never  dreaming  of  '  Hamlet'  or  'Richard  III.'  Well, 
the  Lyceum  opened,  but  did  not  succeed.  Mr.  Bateman 
had  lost  a  lot  of  money,  and  he  intended  giving  it  up. 
He  proposed  to  me  to  go  to  America  with  him.  By 
my  advice,  and  against  his  wish,  *  The  Bells '  was 
rehearsed,  but  he  did  not  believe  in  it  much.  He 
thought  there  was  a  prejudice  against  the  management, 
and  that  there  would  probably  be  a  prejudice  against 
that  sort  of  romantic  play.  It  produced  a  very  poor 
house,  although  a  most  enthusiastic  one.  From 
that  time  the  theatre  prospered.  The  next  piece 
was  a  great  difficulty.  It  was  thought  that  what- 
ever part  I  played  it  must  be  a  villain,  associated 
with  crime  in  some  way  or  other ;  because  I  had 
been  identified  with  such  sort  of  characters  it  was 
thought  my  forte  lay  in  that  direction.  I  should 
tell  you  that  I  had  associated  histrionically  with 
all  sores  of  bad  characters,  house-breakers,  blacklegs, 
assassins.  'When  'Charles  I.' was  announced,  it  was 
said  that  the  bad  side  of  the  king's  character  should 
be  the  one  portrayed,  not  the  good,  because  it  would 
be  ridiculous  to  expect  me  to  exhibit  any  pathos,  or  to 
give  the  domestic  and  loving  side  of  its  character.  After 
the  first  night  the  audience  thought  differently.  Fol- 
lowing  'Charles   I.'    'Eugene   Aram'  was,    by   Mr. 


74 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMEBICA. 


Bateman's  desire,  produced.  In  this  we  have  a  charac- 
ter much  like  that  of  IMathias,  but  with  a  pathetic  side 
to  it.  Then  Mr.  Bateman  wished  me  to  play  '  Riche- 
lieu.' I  had  no  desire  to  do  that ;  but  he  continued  to 
persuade,  and  to  please  him  I  did  it.  It  ran  for  a  long 
time  with  great  success.  What  I  did  play,  by  my  own 
desire,  and  against  his  belief  in  its  success,  was  'Ham- 
let,' for  you  must  know  that  at  that  time  there  was  a 
motto  among  managers,  —  'Shakespeare  spells  bank- 
ruptcy.' " 

"  What  is  your  method  in  preparing  to  put  a  play  on 
the  stage, — say  one  of  Shakespeare's;  would  you  be 
guided  by  the  tradition  of  Shakespearian  acting  ?  " 

"  There  is  no  tradition  of  Shakespearian  acting ;  nor 
is  there  anything  written  down  as  to  the  proper  way  of 
acting  Shakespeare.  We  have  the  memoirs  and  the 
biographies  of  great  actors,  and  we  know  something 
of  their  methods  ;  but  it  does  not  amount;  to  a  tradition 
or  to  a  school  of  Shakespearian  acting.  For  instance, 
what  is  known  on  the  stage  of  Shakespeare's  tradition 
of  Richard  ?  Nothing.  The  stage  tradition  is  Colley 
Gibber.  '  Off  with  his  head,  —  so  much  for  Bucking- 
ham ! '  is,  perhaps,  the  most  familiar  line  of  his  text. 
We  have  had  some  men  who  have  taken  this  or  that 
great  actor  as  their  exemplar ;  they  have  copied  him  as 
nearly  as  they  could.  Actors,  to  be  true,  should,  I 
think,  act  for  themselves." 

"  You  would  advise  an  actor,  then,  to  go  to  the  book 
and  study  the  play  out  for  himself,  and  not  take  this  or 
that  character  by  rote  ?  " 

"  Certainly  ;  take  the  book,  and  work  the  play  out  to 


FIRST  IMPRESSIONS. 


75 


the  best  of  your  intelligence.  I  believe  my  great  safe- 
guard has  been  that  I  have  always  tried  to  work  out  a 
character  myself.  As  a  boy  I  never  would  see  a  play 
until  I  had  studied  it  first." 

"  That  would  be  an  answer  to  the  strictures  which 
have  been  made  on  you,  that  you  have  not  kept  to  the  old 
acting  versions,  but  have  made  versions  for  yourself?" 

"True ;  and  why  should  I  not,  if  I  keep,  as  1  do,  to 
Shakespeare  ?  For  many  actors  Shakespeare  was  not 
good  enough.  A  picture  which  hangs  in  my  rooms 
affords  an  instance  in  point.  It  represents  Mr.  Holman 
and  Miss  Brunton  in  the  characters  of  Romeo  and 
Juliet,  and  gives  a  quotation  from  the  last  scene  of 
Act  V.  Juliet  says,  '  You  fright  me.  Speak ;  oh, 
let  me  hear  some  voice  beside  my  own  in  this  drear 
vault  of  death  ;  or  I  shall  faint.  Support  me.'  Komeo 
replies,  'Oh  I  I  cannot.  I  have  no  strength,  but 
want  thy  feeble  aid.  Cruel  poison  I '  Not  one  word 
of  which,  as  you  know,  is  Shakespeare's." 

"You  referred  just  now  to  the  necessity  of  an  actor 
acting  *  from  himself ; '  —  in  other  words,  not  sinking  his 
own  individuality  in  the  part  he  is  trying  to  represent ; 
would  it  not  be  an  answer  to  those  who  charge  you 
with  mannerisms  on  the  stage  ?  Is  it  not  true,  in  short, 
that  the  more  strongly  individual  a  man  is  the  more 
pronounced  his  so-called  mannerisms  will  be  ?  " 

"  Have  we  not  all  mannerisms  ?  I  never  yet  saw  a 
human  being  worth  considering  without  them." 

"I  believe  you  object  to  spectators  being  present  at 
your  rehearsals.  What  are  your  reasons  for  that 
course  ?  " 


76 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


"There  are  several,  each  of  which  would  be  a  valid 
objection." 

"  For  instance  ?  " 

"  Well,  first  of  all,  it  is  not  fair  to  author,  manager, 
or  actor,  as  the  impression  given  at  an  incomplete  per- 
formance cannot  be  a  correct  one." 

"  But  surely  by  a  trained  intellect  due  allowance  can 
be  made  for  shortcomings  ?  " 

"For  shortcomings,  yes  ;  but  a  trained  intellect  can- 
not see  the  full  value  of  an  effort,  perhaps  jarred  or 
spoiled  through  some  mechanical  defect ;  or,  if  the 
trained  intellect  knows  all  about  it,  why  needs  it  to  be 
present  at  all?  Now,  it  seems  to  me  that  one  must 
have  a  reason  for  being  present,  either  business  or 
curiosity,  and  business  cannot  be  properly  done,  while 
curiosity  can  wait." 

"  Another  reason  ?  " 

"It  is  unjust  to  the  artists.  A  play  to  be  complete 
must,  in  all  its  details,  finally  pass  through  one  imagina- 
tion. There  must  be  some  one  intellect  to  organize 
and  control ;  and  in  order  that  this  may  be  effected  it 
is  necessary  to  experimentalize.  Many  a  thing  may  be 
shown  at  rehearsal  which  is  omitted  in  representa- 
tion. If  this  be  seen,  and  not  explained,  a  false  im- 
pression is  created.  A  loyal  company  and  staff  help 
much  to  realize  in  detail  and  effect  the  purpose  of  the 
manager ;  but  still,  all  are  but  individual  men  and 
women,  and  no  one  likes  to  be  corrected  or  advised 
before  strangers." 

"  As  to  the  alleged  dearth  of  good  modern  English 


FIRST  IMPRESSIONS. 


77 


plays,  what  do  you  tliink  is  the  cause  of  tlieir  non- 
production  ?  " 

"I  deny  the  dearth,  except  so  far  as  there  is  always 
a  dearth  of  the  good  things  of  the  world.  I  hold  that 
there  are  good  English  plays.  I  could  name  you 
many." 

"  What  are  your  opinions  of  the  stage  as  an  educa- 
tional medium  ?  I  ask  the  question  because  there  is  a 
large  class  of  people,  both  intelligent  and  cultured, 
who  still  look  upon  the  stage  and  stage-plays,  even  if 
not  downright  immoral,  as  not  conducive  to  any  intel- 
lectual or  moral  good." 

"My  dear  sir,  I  must  refer  you  to  history  for  an 
answer  to  that  problem.  It  cannot  be  solved  on  the 
narrow  basis  of  one  craft  or  calling.  Such  ideas  are 
due  to  ignorance.  Why,  in  England,  three  hundred 
years  ago,  —  in  Shakespeare's  time, — in  the  years  when 
he,  more  than  any  other  human  being  in  all  that  great 
age  of  venture  and  development,  of  search  and  research, 
was  doing  much  to  make  the  era  famous,  actors  were 
but  servants,  and  the  stage  was  only  tolerated  by  court 
license.  A  century  later,  in  London  city,  actors  were 
pilloried  and  the  calling  deemed  vagrancy ;  while  in 
France  a  Christian  burial  was  denied  to  Moliere's 
corpse.  The  study  of  social  history  and  development 
teaches  a  lesson  in  which  you  may  read  your  answer. 
When  bigotry  and  superstition  fade,  and  toleration  tri- 
umphs, then  the  work  of  which  the  stage  is  capable 
will  be  fairly  judged,  and  there  will  be  no  bar  to  en- 
counter. The  lesson  of  toleration  is  not  for  the  player 
alone  ;  the  preacher  must  learn  it." 


78 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


ni. 

The  first  week  in  New  York  was,  in  a  great  measure, 
spent  between  the  theatre  and  the  hotel.  Invitations 
to  dinner  and  receptions  were,  as  a  rule,  declined. 
The  exceptions  were  breakfasts  given  by  Mr.  Vanderbilt 
and  Judge  Shea.  Many  distinguished  persons  called. 
All  kinds  of  polite  attentions  were  offered,  some  of 
which  it  is  to  be  feared  Irving  had  not  time  or 
opportunity  to  acknowledge  as  he  could  have  wished. 
One  gentleman  placed  his  carriage  at  Mr.  Irving's  dis- 
posal ;  another  offered  to  lend  him  his  house  ;  another 
his  steam  launch.  These  courtesies  were  tendered  grace- 
fully and  without  ostentation.  Flowers  were  sent  regu- 
larly from  unknown  hands  to  the  Hotel  Dam.  Miss 
Terry  went  driving  with  friends  in  the  Park,  and  found 
the  trotting-track  a  fascinating  scene.  Within  forty- 
eight  hours  Irving  was  a  familiar  figure  in  the  lower 
part  of  Fifth  avenue  and  Union  square,  as  he  walked 
to  and  from  the  theatre.  He  and  Miss  Terry  made 
their  first  acquaintance  at  Delmonico's  in  company  with 
myself  and  wife.  An  elegant  little  dinner,  of  which  the 
ice-creams  were  its  most  successful  feature.  Artistic 
in  construction,  they  were  triumphs  of  delicate  color. 
I  think  they  were  the  chef^s  tributes  to  Miss  Terry's 
supposed  aesthetic  taste.  No  wonder  the  Delmonicos 
made  millions  of  dollars,  when  it  is  possible  that  the 
chief  reminiscence  of  a  dinner  may  be  associated  with 
the  ice-creams  and  sweets.  On  Tuesday,  after  a 
rehearsal  and  a  drive  down-town  on  a  pouring  wet 
day,    I   piloted    the   new-comer   to    Sieghortner's,   in 


FIRST  IMPRESSIONS. 


79 


Lafayette  place.  This  well-known  cafe  occupies  the 
house  in  which  the  Astors  lived.  It  is  a  building 
characteristic  of  the  early  days  of  New  York's  first 
millionnaircs,  —  marble  steps,  heavy  mahogany  doors, 
rich  Moorish  decorations,  spacious  hall-ways.  Close  by 
is  the  Astor  Library,  a  vj'l  lable  institution,  and  the 
street  itself  has  quite  an  Old- World  look.  It  was  once 
the  most  fashionable  quarter  of  New  York ;  but 
wealth  has  moved  towards  the  park,  and  left  Lafayette 
place  to  restaurants,  boarding-houses,  public  baths,  and 
stores.  Sieghortner  himself  is  a  typical  Dutchman, 
a  veritable  Knickerbocker  of  hotel-keepers,  and  a 
gourmet.  He  is  almost  the  only  "landlord"  (as  we 
would  call  him  at  home)  in  New  York  who  will  con- 
descend to  wait  upon  his  guests.  It  is  a  pleasure  to 
look  upon  his  beaming  face  when  you  order  a  dinner 
and  leave  menu  and  wines  to  his  judgment.  As  he 
stands  by  your  chair,  directing  his  attendants,  he  is 
radiant  with  satisfaction  if  you  arc  pleased,  and  would 
no  doubt  be  plunged  into  despair  if  you  were  dis- 
satisfied. Shrewsbury  oysters,  gumbo  soup,  cutlets, 
canvas-back  ducks,  a  soujfle,  Stilton  cheese,  an 
ice,  a  liqueur,  a  dish  of  fruit,  and  a  bottle  of  hock  that 
filled  the  room  with  its  delicious  perfume. 

"It  was  perfection,  Mr.  Sieghortner,"  said  Irving,  as 
he  sipped  his  coffee,  and  addressed  the  old  man, — "the 
canvas-back  superb.  You  are  so  interested  in  the 
art  of  dining  that  you  will  appreciate  a  little  experience 
of  mine  in  connection  with  the  great  American  bird,  — 
I  don't  mean  the  eagle,  but  the  duck." 


^, 


SMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-S) 


y 


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1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


U£  1^    12.2 


us 

HI 
U 


lAO 


2.0 


1-4    ill  1.6 


f 


'Vr/... 


%' 


/a 


V 


/A 


80 


IMPBE88I0N8  OF  AMERICA. 


Sieghortncr  rubbed  his  hands,  and  said,  "  Oh,  yes, 
—  why,  of  course  !  " 

"An  old  American  friend  of  mine,  —  dead  now, 
alas!  —  when  he  was  in  his  prime,  as  ihcy  say, 
frequently  had  numbers  of  canvas-back  ducks  sent 
to  London  from  New  York.  On  the  first  great  occa- 
sion of  this  kind  he  invited  thirty  guests  to  eat  thirty 
ducks.  He  spent  a  day  or  two  instructing  the  chef  oi 
a  well-known  club  how  to  cook  them.  The  kitchen 
was  to  be  well  heated,  you  know,  and  the  ducks  car- 
ried gently  through. "  '  ~   '  '       ' 

"  Oh,  yes,  that's  the  way  ! "  said  Sieghortner,  rubbing 
his  hands.  - -> 

"  Well,  the  night  came.  His  guests  were  in  full 
force.  The  ducks  were  served.  They  had  a  whitey- 
brown  and  flabby  appearance.  Bateman  cut  one  and 
put  it  aside.  He  tried  another,  and  in  his  rage  flung 
it  under  the  table.     The  dinner  was  an  utter  failure." 

"  Dear  !  dear  !  "  exclaimed  Sieghortner. 

"My  friend  did  not  forget  it  for  months.  He 
was  continually  saying,  'I  wonder  how  that  fool 
spoiled  our  ducks  ;  I  have  tried  to  find  out,  but  it  is  a 
mystery.'  Nearly  a  year  afterwards  I  heard  of  the 
chefs  sudden  death.  Meeting  my  friend,  I  said,  *  Have 
you  heard  of  poor  So-and-so,  the  chef  at  the  club,  —  he 
is  dead  I ' — *  I  am  very  glad  of  it  I '  he  exclaimed.  *  Do 
you  know,  he  cooked  those  ducks  over  the  gas  I ' " 

"  Dear  I  dear  I "  exclaimed  Sieghortner,  a  quick  ex- 
pression of  anger  on  his  face,  "why,  he  ought  to 
have  been  hanged  I " 


FinST  IMPRESSIONS. 


81 


IT. 

It  is  customary  in  American  theatres  for  the  orchestra 
to  play  the  audience  out  as  well  as  in. 

"We  will  dispense  with  that,"  said  Irving  to  his 
conductor,  Mr.  Ball. 

"It  is  a  general  habit  here,"  remarked  the  Star 
manager. 

"  Yes,  I  understand  so,"  Irving  replied ;  "  but  it 
seems  to  me  a  difficult  matter  to  select  the  music 
appropriately  to  the  piece.  What  sort  of  music  do  you 
usually  play?" 

"A  march." 

"  Ah,  well,  you  see  our  plays  are  so  different,  that  a 
march  which  would  do  one  night  would  be  entirely 
out  of  place  the  next.  Have  you  the  score  of  '  The 
Dead  March  in  Saul'?" 

"No,"  was  the  conductor's  reply. 

"Well,  then,  I  think  we  will  finish  as  we  do  in 
London, — with  the  fall  of  the  curtain.  If  we  make  a 
failure  on  Monday  night,  the  most  appropriate  thing 
you  could  play  would  be  'The  Dead  March.'  As  you 
have  no  score  of  it  we  will  do  without  the  exit  music." 

"And  who  knows,"  said  Irving,  as  we  walked  back 
to  the  hotel,  "whether  we  shall  have  a  success  or  not? 
The  wild  manner  in  which  the  speculators  in  tickets 
are  going  on  is  enough  to  ruin  anything.^     They  have 

1  Speculation  in  theatre  tickets  seems  now  to  have  reached  its  height. 
Folks  thonirht  it  had  come  to  a  lively  pass  when  Sarah  Bernhardt  was  hoi-o 
and  some  $23,000  worth  of  seats  were  disposed  of  for  hercn<fagementon  Uio 
opening  day  of  the  sale.  Bui,  bless  you,  that  was  a  mere  drop  in  the 
bucket.    A  man  named  McBride,  who  has  fi-om  kccpin^^  a  small  news-stand 


82 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


bought  up  every  good  scat  in  the  house,  I  am  told,  and 
will  only  part  with  them  at  almost  prohibitive  prices. 
The  play-goers  may  resent  their  operations  and  keep 
away ;  if  they  pay  ten  and  twenty  dollars  for  a  seat, 

gradually  come  foi^ward  until  he  is  now  one  of  the  richest  of  the  ticket 
speculators,  "  got  left,"  as  he  picturesquely  obsei-ved,  on  the  Bernhardt 
affair.  In  other  words,  rival  speculators  got  all  the  best  scats.  So  McBrido 
put  twelve  men  on  duty  in  front  of  the  Star  Theatre  box-office  three  days 
before  the  Ii-ving  sales  were  to  open,  and  there  they  stayed  on  duty  day 
and  night,  until  the  window  was  finally  thrown  open.  Each  one  of  these 
men  got  ten  season-tickets  for  the  Irving  engagement,  which  is  to  last  four 
weeks.  In  other  words,  every  one  of  these  men  bought  two  hundred  and 
eighty  tickets  of  admission  to  the  Star  Theatre,  so  that  McBride  now  hoJds 
for  the  Irving  season  a  neat  little  pile  of  three  thousand  three  hundred  and 
sixty  tickets.  They  were  bought  at  season-ticket  prices  of  $60  per  set  of 
twenty-eight,  and,  therefore,  cost  the  speculator  the  sum  of  $7,200.  Now  you 
will  sec  how  the  speculator  happens  to  have  the  bulge  on  the  Irving  manage- 
ment. The  box-office  price  of  a  ticket  for  a  single  performance  is  $3,  and 
even  if  the  demand  should  not  happen  to  be  as  immense  as  to  warrant  a 
long  advance  on  the  box-office  tarift",  McBride  can  sell  his  tickets  at  the 
regular  price  of  $3  apiece  and  get  the  sum  of  $10,080  for  them,  which  will 
leave  him  a  profit  of  nearly  $3,000  upon  his  short  investment.  There  is, 
however,  little  or  no  likelihood  that  he  will  be  obliged  to  resort  to  this  man- 
ner of  doing  business.  For  the  first  night  he  has  already  sold  seats  for  $10 
and  $15  each,  and  it  is  quite  reasonable  to  suppose  that  as  the  time  ap- 
proaches, and  tickets  become  scarce,  he  can  advance  to  a  still  higher  price. 
These  ticket-speculators  have  regular  customers,  who  willingly  pay  them 
the  ordinary  price  they  ask  rather  than  bother  about  going  to  the  box-office. 
When  Anna  Dickinson  wants  to  visit  a  theatre  in  New  York  she  invariably 
buys  her  tickets  of  Tyson,  who  charges  her  $2  for  a  $1.50  seat.  So  it  is 
with  a  good  many  other  people,  particularly  the  rich  and  reckless  down- 
town brokera,  who  purchase  their  tickets  during  the  day,  and  who,  rather 
than  take  the  trouble  to  send  a  messenger  away  up  to  the  theatre  they 
intend  to  visit,  go  to  the  speculator's  branch  office  and  pay  the  advance 
demanded  for  whatever  they  want.  There  arc  only  a  few  regular  ticket* 
speculators  in  New  York.  Old  Fred  IluUman,  a  Dutchman,  was  for  a  long 
time  the  chief  operator  in  theatre  tickets,  but  he  seldom  appears  nowadays 
in  any  of  the  big  deals.  lie  works  mostly  in  opera  tickets,  and  is  contented 
not  to  take  heavy  risks.  McBride  is  the  longest  chance-taker  of  the  lot. 
Tyson  is  not  a  risky  buyer,  but  confines  his  purchases  pretty  closely  to  the 
demands  of  his  regular  customers.  —  New  York  Correspondent  qf  St.  Louis 
Spectator, 


FIRST  IMPRESSIONS.  83 

instead  of  two  and  a  half  or  three,  they  cannot  be 
expected  to  come  to  the  house  in  a  contented  frame  of 
mind.  The  more  money  they  have  been  plundered  of, 
the. more  exacting  they  will  be  in  regard  to  the  actors  ; 
it  is  only  natural  they  should.  Then  we  have  no  pit 
proper,  and  the  lowest  admission  price  to  the  gallery  is 
a  dollar.  I  would  have  preferred  to  play  to  Lyceum 
prices ;  but  in  that  case  they  say  I  should  only  have 
been  putting  so  much  more  into  the  pockets  of  the 
speculators.  These  operators  in  tickets  are  protected 
by  the  law  ;  managers  are  obliged  to  sell  to  them,  and 
the  dealers  have  a  right  to  hawk  them  on  the  pavement 
at  the  entrance  of  the  theatres." 

"  This  is  a  State  or  city  law,  only  applying  to  New 
York.  I  don't  think  it  exists  anywhere  else  in  the 
Union.  It  certainly  does  not  at  Philadelphia  and 
Boston." 

"It  is  an  outrage  on  the  public,"  he  replied. 
"Legitimate  agencies  for  the  convenience  of  the  public, 
with  a  profit  of  ten  or  twenty  per  cent,  to  the  vendor,  is 
one  thing ;  but  exacting  from  the  public  five  and  ten 
dollars  for  a  two-and-a-half-dollar  seat  is  another. 
After  all,  a  community,  however  rich,  have  only  a  cer- 
tain amount  of  money  to  spend  on  amusements.  There- 
fore the  special  attractions  and  the  speculators  get  the 
lion's  share,  and  the  general  or  regular  amusements  of 
the  place  have  to  be  content  with  short  commons." 

"  If  the  '  Sun '  reporter  could  hear  you  he  would 
congratulate  himself  on  having  called  you  *  a  business- 
like Hamlet.' "  >: 


84 


IMPSESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


IV. 


AT  THE  LOTOS   CLUB. 

I 

The  Suvajje  Club  of  America  —  Thackeray  and  TiOrd  Houghton  —  A  Great 
Banquet  —  Mr.  Whitelaw  Rcitl  on  IiTing'  and  the  Actor's  Calling  — 
"  Welcome  to  a  Country  where  he  may  find  not  Unworthy  Brethren  "  — 
An  Answer  to  the  Warnings  of  the  English  Traveller  of  Chapter  I. 
—  **  Shakespeare's  Charles  tlie  First "  —  A  Night  of  Wit  and  Humor  — 
Chauncey  M.  Depew  on  Theatrical  Evolution  —  The  Knighting  of 
Sullivan  —  The  Delineator  of  Romance  visiting  the  Home  of  Ameinca'a 
Ci'cator  of  Romance  —  After-dinner  Stories  —  Conspiring  against  the 
Peace  of  a  Harmless  Scotchman  —  A  Pleasant  Jest. 


.1. 

The  Lotos  Club  is  the  Savage  of  America,  as  the 
Century  is  its  Garrick ;  each,  however,  with  a  differ- 
ence. The  Lotos  admits  to  membersi^ip  gentlemen 
who  are  not  necessarily  journalists,  authors,  actors, 
and  painters,  earning  their  subsistence  out  of  the  arts. 
They  must  be  clubable  and  good  fellows,  in  the 
estimation  of  the  committee  ;  and  herein  lies  their  best 
qualification.  This  combination  of  the  arts  proper 
with  trade  and  finance  has  made  the  club  a  success  in 
the  broadest  sense  of  the  term.  Their  home  is  a 
palace  compared  with  that  of  the  Savage  in  London. 
The  general  atmo8i)hcre  of  the  Century  is  more  akin 
to  that  of  the  Garrick,  and  it  is  a  far  closer  corpo- 
ration than  the  Lotos.  Mr.  Thackeray  spent  a  good 
deal  of  his  time  there  when  he  was  in  New  York ; 
while  Lord  Houghton,  it  is  said,  preferred  the  more 


AT  THE  LOTOS  CLUB. 


85 


jovial  fireside  of  the  Lotos.  In  those  days  the 
younger  club  v/as  in  humbler,  but  not  less  comfortable, 
quarters  than  those  it  now  occupies :  while  the  Cen- 
turv,  conservative  and  conscious  of  its  more  aristocratic 
record,  is  well  content  with  the  house  which  is  asso- 
ciated with  many  years  of  pleasant  memories. 

The  Lotos  honored  Irving  with  a  banquet ;  the  Century 
welcomed  him  at  one  of  its  famous  monthly  reunions. 
The  Lotos  dinner  was  the  first  public  recognition, 
outside  the  press,  of  Irving  in  America.  He  had 
accepted  its  invitation  before  sailing  for  New  York, 
and  sat  down  with  the  Lotos-eaters  on  the  Saturday 
(October  27)  prior  to  his  Monday  night's  appearance 
at  the  Star  Theatre.  The  club-rooms  had  never  been 
so  crowded  as  on  this  occasion.  Dishes  were  laid  for 
a  hundred  and  forty  members  and  guests  in  the  dining- 
room  and  salo7i  of  the  club,  and  fifty  others  consented 
to  eat  together  in  the  restaurant  and  reading-room 
upstairs,  and  fifty  or  sixty  others  had  to  be  content  to 
come  in  after  dinner.  Mr.  Irving  sat  on  the  right 
hand  of  the  President  of  the  club,  Mr.  Whitelaw 
Reid,  editor  of  the  "Tribune."  At  the  same  table 
were  Chauncey  M.  Depew,  Dr.  A.  E.  Macdonald, 
General  Horace  Porter,  E.  Randolph  Robinson, 
Algernon  S.  Sullivan,  R.  B.  Roosevelt,  Thomas  W. 
Knox,  H.  H.  Gorringe,  W.  H.  Smith,  Rev.  Robert 
Laird  Collyer,  and  F.  R.  Lawrence.  Among  others 
present  were  Lawrence  Barrett,  Joseph  JeflTerson, 
William  J.  Florence,  R.  W.  Gilder,  Dr.  Fordyce 
Barker,  D.  G.  Croly,  General  Winslow,  and  A.  Oakey 
Hall.     In  a  window  alcove  behind  the  President's  chair 


86 


IMPEESSIONS   OF  AMERICA. 


stood  an  easel,  holding  a  large  portrait  of  Irving  as 
Shylock.  J  ,       •    )    :,  \     .    i         ■ ')  J   i  > 

CofFce  being  served,  i\Ir.  Irving  was  conducted  up- 
stairs to  be  introduced  to  the  diners  in  his  honor  who 
were  crowded  out  of  the  lower  rooms.  They  received 
him  with  a  loud  cheer,  and  then  accompanied  him  to 
join  the  other  guests.  The  company  broke  up  into 
groups,  stood  about  the  door- ways,  and  thronged 
around  the  President,  who  thereupon  arose  and  ad- 
dressed them  as  follows  :  — 

"You  must  excuse  the  difficulty  in  procuring  seats. 
You  know  the  venerable  story  which  Oscar  Wilde  ap- 
propriated about  the  sign  over  the  piano  in  a  far-western 
concert-hall :  '  Don't  shoot  the  performer  ;  he's  doing 
the  best  he  can.'  (Laughter.)  The  committee  beg 
me  to  repeat  in  their  behalf  that  touching  old  appeal. 
They've  done  the  best  they  could.  There  are  five 
hundred  members  of  this  club,  and  only  one  hundred 
and  forty  seats  in  this  dining-room ;  they  have  done 
their  utmost  to  put  the  five  hundred  men  into  the  one 
hundred  and  forty  seats.  Don't  shoot !  They'll  come 
down,  apologi?:c,  retreat,  resign,  —  do  anything  to 
please  you.  They've  thoroughly  tried  this  thing  of  put- 
ting two  men  in  one  seat  and  persuading  the  other 
three  that  standing  room  is  just  as  good  ;  and  to-night, 
as  the  perspiration  rolls  from  their  troubled  brows,  their 
fervent  hope  and  prayer  is  that  the  manager  for  your 
distinguished  guest  may  be  haunted  by  that  self-same 
trouble  all  through  his  American  tour  I  (Applause  and 
laughter.)  •      i 

"London  appropriated  our  national  anniversary,  to 


AT  THE  LOTOS  CLUB. 


87 


do  honor  to  its  favorite  actor  as  he  was  about  to  visit 
us.  On  that  occasion,  on  the  Fourth  of  July  last,  at  a 
banquet  without  a  parallel  in  the  history  of  the  British 
stage,  and  to  which  there  are  actually  none  to  be  com- 
pared, save  the  far  less  significant,  but  still  famous, 
entertainments  to  Kean  and  Macready,  —  at  that  ban- 
quet your  guest  said  :  *  This  God-speed  would  alone 
insure  me  a  hearty  welcome  in  any  land.  But  I  am 
not  going  among  strangers.  I  am  going  among 
friends.*     (Applause.) 

"Let  us  take  him  at  his  word.  Once  we  were  apt 
to  get  our  opinions  from  the  other  side.  If  that  grows 
less  and  less  a  habit  now,  with  the  spread  among  us, 
since  we  attained  our  national  majority,  of  a  way 
of  doing  our  own  thinking,  we  are  still  all  the  more 
glad  to  welcome  friendships  from  the  other  side. 

"We  know  our  friendly  guest  as  the  man  whom 
a  great,  kindred  nation  has  agreed  to  accept  as  its 
foremost  living  dramatic  representative.  We  know 
that  his  success  has  tended  to  elevate  and  purify  the 
stage,  to  dignify  the  actor's  calling,  to  widen  and 
better  its  influence.  We  know  the  scholarship  he  has 
brought  to  the  representation  of  the  great  dramatists, 
the  minute  and  comprehensive  attention  he  has  given 
to  every  detail  alike  of  his  own  acting  and  of  the 
general  management.  His  countrymen  do  not  say 
that  if  he  were  not  the  foremost  actor  in  England  he 
would  be  the  first  manager  ;  —  they  declare  that  he  is 
already  both.      (Applause.)  : 

"  We  bid  him  the  heartiest  of  welcomes  to  a  country 
where  he  may  find  not  unworthy  brethren.     Our  greet- 


88 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


ing  indeed  takes  a  tone  of  special  cordiality  not  so 
much  from  what  we  know  of  his  foreign  repute,  or 
from  our  remembering  the  great  asscmbhige  of  repre- 
sentative countrymen  gathered  to  give  him  their  fare- 
well and  God-speed.  It  comes  even  more  from  our 
knowing  him  aa  the  friend  of  Edwin  Booth  (Applause), 
and  Joseph  Jefferson  (Applause),  and  Lawrence  Bar- 
rett (Applause),  and  John  McCullough  (Applause), 
and  William  Florence  (Applause).  And  if  .inything 
else  were  needed  to  make  the  grasp  of  every  man's 
hand  in  this  club  yet  warmer,  it  is  furnished  when 
we  remember  that  his  conspicuous  friend  among 
English  a'  'ors  is  our  friend,  John  Toole.  (Ap- 
plause.) 

"  It  would  not  be  fair  to  our  distinguished  but  un- 
suspicious guest,  adventuring  into  these  foreign  parts, 
if,  before  sitting  down,  I  did  not  warn  him  that  all 
this,  and  much  more  which  he  is  likely  to  hear,  is  said 
around  the  dinner-table.  Let  him  not  think  that  he 
wholly  knows  us,  and  is  fairly  naturalized,  until  he  has 
read  the  papers  the  morning  after  his  first  perform- 
ance. What  they  may  contain  no  living  man  knoweth 
(Laughter)  ;  but  others  have  sometimes  groaned  that 
we  treat  our  guests  with  too  much  attention  ;  that  we 
accord  them,  in  fact,  the  same  distinguished  honor 
we  give  our  national  bird,  —  the  turkey,  —  which  we 
first  feed  and  afterwards  carve  up.  (Great  laugh- 
ter.) ■    ■•"•''     -  ■■■■■'-•■■•■  ■^■-  '■ 

"But  the  prologue  is  an  antiquated  device,  now 
pretty  well  banished  from  the  stage,  because  it  merely 
detains  you  from  what  you  came  to  hear.     I  will  de- 


AT  THE  LOTOS   CLUB.  80 

tain  you  no   longer.      I  give    you,  gentlemen,  Our 
Guest, — 

•*  0  trumpet  set  for  Shakespeare's  lips  to  blow  I  " 

"Health  to  Henry  Irving,  and  a  hearty  welcome.'* 
(Great  applause.)        ' 

The  toast  was  drank  with  ringing  cheers,  and  in  its 
report  of  the  reply  the  "  Tribune "  says :  "Mr.  Irving 
spoke  in  measured  tones,  and  with  a  singularly  clear 
and  effective  enunciation,  his  frequent  ironical  sallies 
being  received  with  bursts  of  laughter  and  applause." 
He  said :  —  ■   '■ 

"Mr.  Chairman  and  Gentlemen,  —  It  is  not  in  my 
power  to  thank  you,  with  eloquence,  for  the  recep- 
tion that  you  have  given  me  to-night.  In  spite  of  the 
comforting  words  and  suggestions  of  our  friend,  the 
chairman,  that  on  Tuesday  morning  my  feelings  may 
undergo  a  change,  I  am  quite  determined  that  to-night 
and  to-morrow  night,  if  all  be  well,  I  shall  have  a 
good  night's  rest.  I  do  feel  naturalized  ;  and,  whatever 
may  be  said  to  the  contrary,  I  shall  always  bear  away 
with  me  the  impression  that  I  am  among  my  own  flesh 
and  blood.  (Applause.)  The  simile  of  the  turkey  did 
not  affect  me  very  much  ;  for  if  the  ill-omened  bird  (I 
do  not  know  whether  he  is  as  familiar  in  your  country 
as  he  is  in  mine),  the  goose,  is  not  served  up  ^  hall  be 
very  content.     (Applause.)  -.- 

"You  have  received  me,  not  as  a  stranger,  but  as  a 


90 


IMPRESS10N8   OF  AMERICA. 


welcome  friend  (Applause) ,  and  that  welcome  I  appre- 
ciate with  all  my  heart  and  soul.  In  coming  here 
amongst  you  I  really  had  —  I  may  as  well  confess  it  — 
but  on«  terror.  The  Atlantic  I  would  brave  ;  the  wind 
and  weather  I  would  scorn  ;  even  sea-sickness  I  would 
enjoy ;  but  there  was  one  terror,  —  the  interviewer. 
(Laughter. )  But  I  am  very  glad  to  tell  you  that  that 
is  passed ;  and  I  have  said  so  much  to  the  interviewer 
that  I  have  veiy  little  left  to  say  to  you.  I  must,  how- 
ever, also  tell  you  that  I  find  the  interviewer  a  very  much 
misrepresented  person.  He  seemed  to  me  to  be  a  most 
courteous  gentleman,  who  had  but  an  amiable  curiosity 
to  know  a  little  about  myself  that  he  did  not  know  be- 
fore ;  and  I  was  very  well  satisfied  to  gratify  him  as 
much  as  I  could.  I  was  told  that  he  would  turn  me 
inside  out ;  that  he  would  cross-examine  me,  and  then 
appear  agjiinst  me  the  following  morning.  (Laughter.) 
But  I  found  nothing  of  the  sort ;  and  if  I  had  any 
complaint  to  make  against  him,  the  comments  with 
which  he  tempered  his  suggestions  were  so  flattering 
and  so  gratifying  to  myself  that  I  forgave  him  the 
suggestions  that  he  made.  The  only  thing  that  I  would 
quarrel  with  hiD>  for  was  for  saying  that  I  reminded 
him  of  Oscar  Wilde.  (Laughter.)  Oscar  Wilde  is 
a  very  clever  fellow,  and  I  am  not  going  to  descant 
upon  liim.  You  know  more  about  liim  than  I  do  ;  and 
I  hope  that  when  Oscar  Wilde  reads  what  I  have  said  — 
as  1  suppose  he  will  —  he  w'll  take  no  offence.  I  am 
extremely  indebted  to  the  interviewer,  also,  for  telling 
me  that  I  was  classed  with  Edwin  Booth.  With  that  I 
have  no  fault  to  find. 


AT  THE  LOTOS  CLUB.  91 

'*To  the  courtesy  and  kindness  of  American  gentle- 
men I  have  long  been  accustomed  ;  for  if  you  have  not 
in  London,  as  you  have  in  Paris,  an  American  quarter, 
it  is  really  because  Americans  are  found  everywhere  in 
London ;  and  I  think  that  everywhere  in  London  they 
are  welcome.  (Applause.)  Our  interests  are  mutual ; 
and  in  our  art  we  are  getting  day  by  day  more  closely 
allied.  London  is  now  talking  with  raptures  of  your 
Mary  Anderson  (Applause)  ;  of  your  great  tragedian, 
Booth  (Applause)  ;  of  your  great  comedian,  Jefferson 
(Applause)  —  I  dislike  tlie  words  '  tragedian  '  and 
*  comedian  ' ;  actor  is  so  much  better,  and  it  is  a  house- 
hold word.  McCullougli  and  Clarke,  and  my  friends 
Florence  and  Raymond,  have  had  amongst  us  the 
heartiest  of  welcomes.  And  I  am  quite  sure  that  your 
famous  actress,  Clara  Morris,  need  only  come  amongst 
us  —  as  my  friend,  Lawrence  Barrett,  is  coming  —  to 
have  another  welcome.  • 

"  Mr.  Whitelaw  Reid  has  spoken  of  my  work  in  my 
art  in  the  kindest  and  most  appreciative  way.  If  I 
have  done  anything  to  gain  that  commendation,  it  is 
because  I  have  striven  to  do  my  duty ;  and  but  for  the 
appreciation  of  many  of  my  countrymen,  who  have 
thought  so,  and  but  for  the  appreciation  that  I  receive 
now  at  this  table,  I  am  quite  sure  that  my  work  would 
have  been  in  vain. 

"  I  do  not  intend  to  bore  you  with  any  ideas  of  mine 
about  my  art,  either  histrionically  or  pictorially.  My 
method,  histrionically,  is  a  very  simple  one.  I  merely 
endeavor  to  go  to  the  fountain-head  to  get  my  inspira- 
tion ;  and  by  what  my  work  is  I  know  that  you  will 


92  IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 

judge  it,  and  judge  it  fairly.  I  am  quite  sure  of  this  : 
that  no  people  will  go  to  a  theatre  with  a  greater  desire 
to  do  justice  to  an  actor  than  you  will  go  to  tlie  theatre 
to  see  me  on  Monday  night.  (Applause. )  If  you  like 
me  you  will  express  it ;  and,  if  you  do  not  like  me, 
still  you  will  treat  me  kindly. 

"Our  art  is  cosmopolitan.  Every  actor  has  his  own 
methods,  as  every  painter  has  his  methods,  and  every 
writer  has  his  style.  The  best  actor  amongst  us  has  a 
great  deal  to  learn.  It  is  only  at  the  end  of  his  career 
that  he  finds  how  short  is  his  life,  and  how  long  is 
his  art.  Concerning  the  mounting  of  plays,  I  give 
to  a  play  of  Shakespeare  the  same  advantage  that  I 
would  give  to  any  modern  author ;  and  until  a  greater 
man  than  Shakespeare  arrives,  I  think  I  shall  continue 
to  do  so.     (Applause.) 

"In  my  own  dear  land  I  am  glad  to  tell  you  that  the 
love  for  Shakespearian  drama  is  very  greatly  increasing. 
Shakespearian  societies  throughout  our  land  have  done 
much  to  encourage  that.  You  know  very  well  that 
there  was  a  time  when  Shakespeare  was  said  by  a  Lon- 
don manager  to  spell  '  bankruptcy,'  and  Lord  Byron 
*ruin.'  I  remember  that  at  one  of  the  revivals  of  Shake- 
spearian pl.ays  at  the  Lyceum,  a  gentleman  leaving  the 
theatre  was  heard  to  express  the  opinion  that  the  play 
was  not  a  bad  one  ;  that  he  thought  it  might  have  a 
tolerable  run,  but  that  it  would  be  very  much  improved 
if  it  liad  not  contained  so  many  quotations.  (Laughter. ) 
The  play  was  'Macbeth.*  (Laughter.)  I  have  been 
told  that  that  gentleman  is  sometimes  to  be  found  in 
the  British  Museum,  in  the  old  reading-room  devoted 


AT  THE  LOTOS  CLUB.  93 

to  Shakespearian  manuscripts,  and  that  he  is  very  fre- 
quently found  turning  them  over ;  but  with  what  suc- 
cess I  do  not  know.  I  also  remember  that  once,  when 
a  play  was  produced,  a  friend  of  mine  asked  me  what 
the  subject  of  it  was.  I  said  to  him  that  the  subject 
was  Charles  I.  ;  at  which  he  hemmed  and  hawed  and 
said,  *  Very  good ;  very  good ;  oh,  capital  I  Charles 
I.  Yes,  I  should  think  that  would  do  very  well.  Let 
me  see.  Charles  I.  Do  you  mean  Shakespeare's 
Charles  I.?'  (Laughter.)  However,  these  things 
are  improving,  and  even  the  old  play-goer,  —  I  do  not 
know  whether  such  a  character  exists  amongst  you,  — 
who  is  amongst  us  a  very  dreadful  creature ;  even  he 
is  beginning  to  tolerate  the  student  who  goes  to  the 
book,  instead  of  to  traditional  characters,  for  his  inspi- 
ration. 

"We  are  very  hypocritical,  however,  some  of  us,  in 
England.  We  go  to  the  Crystal  Palace  to  see  the 
play  of '  Hamlet,'  and  go  to  the  Crystal  Palace  because 
it  is  not  a  theatre ;  and  when  we  would  not  go  to  a 
theatre  to  see  the  play  of  '  Hamlet,'  we  will  go  to  the 
Crystal  Palace,  or  some  other  such  place,  to  see  the 
*Pink  Dominoes.'  (Laughter.)  We  will  crowd  some- 
times to  the  French  theatre,  without  understanding  the 
nationality,  the  gesture,  of  the  actors,  or  a  word  of  their 
language,  when  we  will  desert  our  own  theatres  where 
these  pieces  are  being  played.  But  fortunately  no  such 
difference  as  that  can  exist  between  us  ;  and  I  cherish 
the  hope  that  it  will  be  my  good  fortune,  and  more 
especially  the  good  fortune  of  my  fellow-workers,  and 
especially  of  my  gifted  companion  and  friend,   Ellen 


94 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


Terry  (Great  applause), — I  say  that  I  cherish  the 
hope  that  we  shall  be  able  to  win  your  favor. 
(Applause.)  I  dare  say  that  you  will  find  many  of  us 
very  strange  and  very  odd,  with  peculiarities  of  speech, 
and  with  peculiarities  of  manner  and  of  gesture  ;  but  it 
would,  perhaps,  not  be  so  pleasurable  if  we  were  all 
just  alike.  (Laughter.)  It  is  not  our  fault,  you 
know,  if  we  are  Englishmen. 

"  Gentlemen,  I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart  for  the 
greeting  you  have  given  me.  I  thank  you  for  the 
brotherly  hand  that  you  have  extended  to  me.  And  if 
anything  could  make  one  feel  at  home,  and  comfort- 
able, and  sure  of  having  a  real  good  time  amongst  you, 
it  is  the  cordiality  with  which  I  have  been  received  to- 
night. The  very  accents  of  your  hearty  greeting,  and 
the  very  kindness  of  your  genial  faces,  tell  me  that 
there  are  iu  your  hearts  good  and  kind  overflowing 
wishes.  Gentlemen,  I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart ; 
and  I  feel  that  there  is  a  bond  between  us  which  dates 
before  to-night."  -  ■■  ^■.  7. 

The  speaker  sat  down  amidst  great  applause.  His 
manner  and  matter  had  evidently  given  great  satisfac- 
tion. Hov7  he  had  been  misrepresented  as  to  his  man- 
nerisms is  unconsciously  admitted  by  the  note  of  the 
"Tribune"  reporter  that  he  spoke  clearly.  He  did, 
and  in  that  quiet,  self-possessed,  conversational  style 
which  was  remarked  as  so  effective  at  the  London 
banquet.  ■'•'•;'  >"  •  •    , -;  '>'^^  \.^.r-\\   j>--i  ■< 


AT  TEE  LOTOS  CLUB, 


95 


As  it  was  generally  admitted  that  the  speaking  on 
this  night  had  never  been  exceeded  in  wit  and  humor, 
and  for  its  cordiality  towards  a  famous  Englishman,  at 
any  of  the  Lotos  dinners,  I  make  no  apology  for  print- 
ing portions  of  the  other  addresses.  Mr.  Chnunccy  M. 
Depew,  General  Porter,  and  ex-Mayor  Oakey  Kail, 
have  long  since  made  distinct  reputations  for  themselves 
as  American  orators.  At  an  English  dinner  men  speak 
to  set  toasts.  In  America  they  are  called  upon,  frequent- 
ly without  warning,  to  speak  to  a  sentiment,  or  "to  say 
a  few  words."  It  was  in  this  fashion  that  the  speakers 
at  the  Irving  banquet  were  brought  into  the  extem- 
porized programme,  and  with  the  most  agreeable  re- 
sults. Mr.  Chauncey  M.  Depew,  being  asked  by  the 
chairman  to  speak,  rose  promptly,  amidst  the  clouds  of 
many  Havanas,  and  said  :  — 

"Mr.  President, — The  best  criticism  that  was 
made  upon  the  speech  of  our  guest  to-night  was,  *He 
talks  like  an  American.'  I  am  sure  that  this  memo- 
rable night  will  be  recollected  from  the  fact  that,  in  the 
midst  of  the  din  of  wars  and  contests  and  controversies 
about  us,  this  is  simply  a  peaceful  tribute  on  behalf 
of  this  club  to  one  of  the  chief  and  most  devoted  of  the 
exponents  of  the  drama.  We  have  welcomed  to  this 
country  recently  many  eminent  Englishmen,  and  among 
them  Lord  Coleridge,  whom  we  were  glad  to  see  and 
to  honor,  both  for  what  he  is  and  what  he  represents. 
We  have  received,  at  the  same  time  with  Mr.  Irving, 


96 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


Matthew  Arnold,  and,  while  as  a  great  thinker  we  give 
hill  welcome,  we  warn  him  that  orthodoxy  has  for  him 
its  ecalping-knife  sharp,  and  that  the  theological  hatchet 
is  thirsting  for  his  gore.      (Laughter.) 

"  The  whole  town  is  in  a  din  and  furore  with  the 
cperjitic  war,  and  tenors  are  peeping  over  high  *C's* 
to  get  at  each  other,  while  sopranos  are  hauled  before 
the  courts.  (Laughter.)  Mapleson  walks  around 
with  the  chip  on  his  shoulder,  and  Abbey  calls  upon 
the  police  to  prevent  him  from  hurting  somebody. 
(Laughter. ) 

"  But,  while  this  controversy  rages,  we  meet  here  to- 
night, with  one  voice  and  one  accord,  to  welcome  the 
most  eminent  dramatic  scenic  painter  of  this  century 
and  the  most  eminent  English  actor  of  this  generation. 
(Applause.)  We  have  welcomed  to  this  board  many 
men  from  beyond  the  seas,  and  while  they  have  poured 
something  into  this  vast  reservoir  of  intellectual  wealth, 
we  have  done  more  for  them.  Lord  Houghton  asserts 
that  his  health  and  longevity  after  his  reception  here 
were  largely  due  to  the  fact  that  he  learned  at  this  place 
the  way  to  longevity  by  a  cheap  and  frugal  meal. 
(Laughter.)  From  this  board  Sullivan  arose  to  be- 
come a  knight.  (Laughter  and  applause.)  We  are 
all  of  us  familiar  with  the  oratory  which  usually  char- 
acterizes an  expression  of  the  relations  between  the  old 
country  and  the  new.  There  is  nothing  better  known 
in  the  whole  range  of  eloquence  than  that  which  refers 
to  the  interdependent  relations,  in  respect  to  literature 
and  science  and  art,  between  America  and  England. 
While  this  chord  is  familiar  there  is  one  string  which  is 


AT  TEE  LOTOS  CLUB. 


97 


not  often  touched,  and  that  is  the  debt  we  owe  to  the 
English  thinkers,  Huxley,  Tyndall,  and  Darwin,  who 
nave  created  the  shibboleth,  known  in  all  the  schools  of 
America,  that  evolution  is  the  great  principle  of  modern 
science. 

"While  the  most  of  us  believe  in  evolution  in  theory, 
in  practice  we  have  seen  it  only  upon  the  stage.  The 
Englishman,  from  whom  our  Yankee  inherits  com- 
mercial instincts,  saw  our  want  and  supplied  it.  First 
he  sent  to  us  Lydia  Thompson  and  her  troupe. 
(Laughter.)  And  then  the  shrewd  Englishman  sent 
us  'Pinafore.'  We  were  at  first  fascinated,  then 
charmed,  and  then  annihilated.  We  could  stand 
*  Pinafore '  for  six  hundred  consecutive  nights  in  all 
the  theatres,  to  the  exclusion  of  everything  else ;  in 
the  parlor,  upon  the  piano,  in  the  school-room,  on  the 
hurdy-gurdy  and  on  the  hand-organ ;  but  when  the 
church  choir  could  do  nothing  else,  then  there  rose 
a  cry  for  relief  from  one  end  of  this  country  to  the  other. 
(Great  laughter. )  The  like  of  that  cry  has  never  been 
heard  since  the  children  of  Israel  sought  to  escape  from 
Egypt.  (Renewed  laughter. )  Then,  in  recognition 
of  his  great  service,  Queen  Victoria  summoned  the 
author  to  her  presence,  and  said  to  him:  'For  one 
hundred  years  I  have  sought  to  subdue  those  children 
of  ours  beyond  the  GCas,  but  without  avail ;  but  for 
your  grand  success  arise  and  take  your  place  with 
the  knights  of  armor.'     (Great  laughter.) 

"  There  is  nothing  wliich  more  clearly  indicates  the 
development  of  this  American  people  from  provincial- 
ism   and    its    bigotry    than    the    welcome   given   to 


98 


IMPItESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


Macready,  and  that  which  we  accord  to  Irving.  To 
secure  a  hearing  for  Macready  required  that  the 
soldiery  should  march  with  fixed  bayonetfc  and  shotted 
guns,  while  the  blood  of  the  mob  poured  through 
the  gutter.  But  now  the  American  people  have 
developed  into  a  recognition  of  the  fact  that  to  be  a 
great  people  they  must  adopt  that  catholicity  that 
embraces  men  all  over  the  world ;  that,  while  they  may 
believe  in  Protection  for  textile  fabrics  and  manufact- 
ures, there  must  be  Free  Trade  in  genius.  (Ap- 
plause.) 

"  We  hail,  with  the  gladdest  acclaim  and  heartiest 
welcome,  the  German  Barnay,  the  Italian  Salvini,  and 
the  English  Irving,  because  we  wish  to  have  the  best 
the  world  has  of  art  in  any  of  its  departments,  and 
because  we  want  to  show  them  that  their  success  is 
incomplete  until  they  have  passed  the  ordeal  of  Ameri- 
can criticism.  (Applause.)  The  very  best  tribute  of 
recent  times  to  the  sentiment  of  right-minded  men 
of  culture  and  intelligence  on  both  sides  of  the 
Atlantic,  notwithstanding  what  demagogues  may  say,  is 
that  a  London  audience  crowded  the  house  and  rose  to 
the  highest  enthusiasm  to  greet  the  appearance,  and 
applaud  the  acting,  of  the  American,  Edwin  Booth  (Ap- 
plause) ;  and  its  counterpart  will  be  the  reciprocity  mani- 
fested by  the  American  people  in  crowding  the  house  and 
applauding  the  acting  of  Henry  Irving.  (Applause.) 
Still,  in  illustration  of  the  same  idea,  while  London 
renders  her  most  generous  tribute  to  the  beauty  and 
genius  of  Mary  Anderson,  we  here,  with  an  equal 
chivalry,  will  receive  with  our  best  loyalty  that  beauti- 


1 


AT  THE  LOTOS  CLUB, 


■J>-  s. 


99 


fill,  charming,  and  genial  woman,  that  brilliant  actress, 
that  great  genius,  Ellen  Terry."     (Great  app^.use.) 

General  Horace  Porter,  being  called  up  by  t^e 
President,  assured  *.he  company  that  he  was  really  ^lot 
prepared  to  speak.  Ke  said  he  felt  considerably  em- 
barrassed. His  audience  evidently  did  not  believe 
him,  and  he  amply  justified  their  scepticism.  In  an 
easy,  conversational  manner  he  said :  — 

/        '    ■      ' 

-.     1'      n 

"  I  do  not  even  feel  that  security  which  was  enjoyed 
by  Daniel  in  the  lions'  den,  for  he  had  the  comfortable 
assurance  that  as  these  animals  had  their  original  pro- 
gramme, although  he  might  be  eaten,  it  was  not  likely 
that  he  would  be  called  upon  for  an  after-dinner  speech. 
(Laughter.)  But  if  there  is  any  stimulus  which  can 
arouse  the  most  sluggish  mind  it  has  been  abundantly 
furnished  to-night  by  the  finished  and  chaste  address 
which  has  fallen  from  the  lips  of  our  distinguished 
guest.  He  has  shown  us  to-night  how  well  qualified 
he  is  to  furnish  us  with  that  dish  which  I  know  is  so 
much  relished  in  his  own  country,  — after-dinner  tongue 
garnished  with  brains.  Standing,  as  we  do,  in  the 
presence  of  so  distinguished  a  representative  of  that 
profession  which  is  accustomed  to  speak  the  carefully 
prepared  words  of  the  dramatists,  I  would  not  be  sur- 
prised to  hear  our  guest  say,  in  the  language  of  Romeo 
to  Juliet  in  the  balcony  scene,  as  he  listens  to  my  ill- 
considered  words,  'He  speaks,  yet  he  says  nothing.* 
(Laughter.)  I  hope  Mr.  Irving  is  beginning  to 
understand  that  speech  is  the  peculiar  form  of  insanity 
that  comes  upon  the  American  mind  after  dinner,  and 


100 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


that  here  men  keep  silent  only  when  they  are  sali- 
vated. (Laughter.)  Our  guest,  no  doubt,  begins  to 
realize  what  this  martyrdom  is.  By  the  time  he  is 
ready  to  depart  from  us  he  will,  no  doubt,  have 
greater  respect  than  ever  before  for  the  beneficence  of 
that  Providence  which  has  endowed  us  with  two  ears 
and  only  one  mouth.  (Laughter.)  But  this  martyr- 
dom to-night  does  not  seem  to  be  of  the  nature  of  the 
martyrdom  of  Charles  I.,  for  throughout  it  all  he  has 
not  lost  his  head.  It  seems  to  be  rather  that  martyr- 
dom of  Cranmer,  —  he  has  been  so  thoroughly  toasted 
on  every  side.  (Laughter.)  But  there  is  one  privi- 
lege that  Mr.  Irving  must  not  expect  to  enjoy.  When 
German  and  French  artists  came  here  they  enjoyed  a 
special  and  peculiar  privilege ;  they  were  not  able  to 
understand  a  word  that  was  said  by  the  speakers. 
(Laughter.) 

"  But  I  cannot  sit  down  without  saying  a  few  words 
in  all  seriousness.  It  is  that  this  club  considers  that  it 
enjoys  a  peculiar  privilege  in  having  the  distinguished 
guest  of  the  night  partaking  of  his  first  family  meal 
within  our  land  in  these  walls.  (Applause.)  It  has 
been  a  cherished  desire  on  the  part  of  this  club  to 
press  the  cup  of  greeting  to  his  lips.  We  recognize 
in  him  the  masterly  interpreter  of  the  sublime  works 
of  that  prince  of  dramatists  whom  both  countries  claim 
as  their  own.  He  comes  amongst  us  with  a  name  that 
is  no  stranger  to  our  hearts.  In  his  coming  here  I  see 
the  great  delineator  of  romance  visiting  the  land  of 
our  most  charming  creator  of  romance,  —  Henry  Irving 
visiting  the  home  of  Washington  Irving.     The  Amer- 


AT  TUB  LOTOS  CLUB. 


101 


ican  people  feel  under  a  deep  sense  of  obligation  to 
our  guest,  because  when  th„t  great  representative  of 
the  American  drama  sot  foot  upon  foreign  shores  the 
lips  that  gave  him  the  warmest  greeting,  the  hands 
that  led  him  to  the  boards  of  London's  most  distin- 
guished temple  of  the  drama,  were  1  3se  of  Henry 
Irving.  He  shared  equally  with  Booth  the  honors  of 
his  own  stage ;  and  laid  down  the  principle  that  has 
become  a  law,  which  declares  the  path  of  ambition  is 
never  so  narrow  that  two  cannot  walk  abreast  upon  it. 
"  It  was  my  privilege  a  year  ago  to  hear  Mr.  Irving 
in  his  own  home.  It  was  my  privilege  to  feast  my 
vision  upon  the  masterly  creations  of  the  stage  of  the 
Lyceum.  There  one  saw  at  once  the  reality  of  paint- 
ing. There  the  curtain  rises  upon  absolute  perfection. 
If  I  were  asked  the  secret  of  his  success  I  should  say 
it  is  owing  to  his  constant  aspirations  after  the  high- 
est realms  of  dramatic  art.  I  would  that  words  or 
deeds  of  mine  could  add  to  the  warmth  of  the  welcome 
he  has  received."     (Loud  applause.) 


Dr.  A.  E.  Macdonald,  ex-Mayor  A.  Oakey  Hall, 
Dr.  Robert  Laird  Collier,  Mr.  Joseph  Jefferson,  and 
other  gentlemen,  also  responded  to  the  chairman's  call. 
Dr.  Macdonald  indulged  in  some  good-humored  sallies 
at  the  expense  of  Mr.  Depew.  He  also  spoke  of  the 
New  York  press  having  "  only  just  arrived  at  a  proper 
estimate  of  its  true  value,  —  the  result  being  a  general 
reduction  in  price  to  two  cents."  Mr.  Oakey  Hall, 
referring  to  the  many  streets  and  buildings  he  had  been 
officially  called  upon  to  name,  said,  "  I  now,  in  memory 


102 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


of  this  night,  declare  that  the  window  recess  in  which 
our  illustrious  guest  is  sitting  shall,  from  henceforth, 
be  known  as  '  The  Henry  Irving  I ' "  Mr.  Jefferson 
said,  "Gentlemen,  Charles  Lamb  is  reported  to  have 
declared  that  there  are  only  two  classes  in  the  world,  — 
one  bom  to  borrow,  and  the  other  to  lend.  So  do  I 
think  there  are  two  classes  of  speech-makers,  —  one 
born  to  get  into  it,  the  other  to  get  out  of  it.  I  belong 
to  the  latter  crowd.  Nevertheless  on  this  occasion  I 
rise  cheerfully  to  do  my  best  among  the  born  talkers. 
Mr.  Irving  must  be  getting  tired  of  hearing  his  name 
mentioned  so  often  with  words  of  welcome  and  admira- 
tion, and  I  will  only  say  that  I  join  heartily  in  all  the 
kind  and  worthy  things  that  have  been  said  of  him." 


.J.;  .,-r   .  IV. 

It  was  late  befbre  the  Lotos-eaters  parted,  although 
London  clubmen  take  more  out  of  the  night  than  is  the 
habit  with  New-Yorkers.  The  raciness  of  the  evening's 
speeches  was  repeated  in  the  stories  that  were  told  by 
the  genial  few,  who  sat  and  talked  and  smoked  with 
their  guest  until  Fifth  avenue  was  as  quiet  and 
deserted  as  it  was  when  a  crowd  of  admirinff 
friends  went  out  to  meet  the  "  Britannic "  a  week 
previously.  Apropos  of  an  amusing  anecdote,  vrith 
a  practical  joke  in  it,  which  was  related,  I  think,  by 
Colonel  Knox,  the  courteous  honorary  secretary  of  the 
club,  Irving  said,  "I  am  not  much  of  a  hand  at  that 
kind  of  fun,  but  I  remember  an  incident  in  which  my 
old  friend  Toole,  a  Glasgow  doctor,  and  myself  were 


AT  TEE  LOTOS  CLUB. 


103 


engaged  that  may  amuse  you.  Some  years  ago  we 
found  ourselves  with  a  holiday  forced  upon  us  by  the 
church  of  Scotland.  We  utilized  it  by  going  out  a 
short  distance  into  the  country  and  dining  together 
at  a  famous  roadside  inn.  The  house  was  quite  empty 
of  guests,  and  we  claimed  the  privilege  of  travellers, 
on  our  way  to  the  next  town,  to  sit  over  our  dinner 
a  trifle  later  than  it  was  the  custom  to  keep  the  bar 
open.  The  landlord  was  very  civil,  and  we  had  an 
'excellent  dinner.  The  waiter  who  attended  to  our 
wants  was  a  quaint  old  fellow,  —  one  of  those  rugged 
sort  of  serving-men  with  whom  Sir  Walter  Scott  has 
made  us  all  so  well  acquainted.  While  he  was  re- 
spectful, he  was,  nevertheless,  very  talkative.  He  told 
us  there  had  been  of  late  many  robberies  in  the  neigh- 
borhood. The  constabulary,  he  said,  were  quite  out 
of  their  reckoning  in  regard  to  tracing  the  thieves. 
He  wondered  if  the  country  was  going  back  again  *o 
the  coaching  days  when  cracksmen  and  highwaymen 
had  it  all  theu*  own  way  in  those  parts.  The  old 
fellow  was  a  little  superstitious  too,  and  a  lover  of  the 
marvellous,  as  many  of  the  country  people  who  live  out- 
side great  cities  are  apt  to  be. 

You  seem  a  trifle  hipped,'  I  said ;  *  take  a  glass  of 


<f « 


wme. 


I  am  just  a  wee  bit  low,'  he  said ;  *  what  wi'  the  bad 
weather,  the  dull  times '  — 

" '  And  the  robberies  you've  lately  had  about  here,'  I 
suggested.  .^ 

" '  Ah,  weel,  they're  nae  calculated  to  raise  one's 
sperits.     Good  health  to  you,  gentlemen  I ' 


J      ■/!. 


.'J.f. 


104 


IMPliESSIONa  OF  AMERICA. 


**  Wc  thanked  him  and  I  filled  his  glass  again. 

"'This  house,'  said  Toole,  '  is  rather  a  lonely  place; 
you  don't  have  many  guests  stJiying  here? ' 

"  *  Not  at  this  time  o'  the  year,'  he  replied ;  *  only  just 
chance  customers.' 

'*  I  filled  his  glass  again  before  he  went  for  the  cheese. 
When  he  came  back  I  took  up  a  fork,  and  expressed 
some  surprise  that  his  master  should,  in  these  thieving 
days,  entrust  Iiis  guests  with  real  silver  plate. 

"  *  I  dinna  bring  it  oot  for  everybody,'  he  replied ; 
*  but  for  a  pairty  o'  gentlemen  like  yoursels,  it's  a 
defferent  thing.' 

"  *  Is  the  salver  there,'  asked  Toole,  taking  up  the 
running  and  pointing  to  the  sideboard,  *  real  silver?' 

"  '  Indeed  it  is,  and  all  the  plate  aboot  is  silver,  and  I 
ken  they  dinna  mak'  sich  silver  nowadays.' 

"  *  Bring  us  a  little  whiskey  !  —  a  pint  in  a  decanter ;  a 
drop  of  the  best,'  I  said. 

"  Having  planted  the  right  kind  of  seed  in  his  mind  for 
the  working  of  a  little  jest  I  had  in  my  own,  my  com- 
panions and  myself  entered  into  a  conspiracy  against 
the  peace  of  this  harmless  Scotchman.  Invited  to  take 
a  nip  of  whiskey,  he  readily  complied,  and  just  as 
readily  took  a  seat.  We  drew  him  out  about  all  the 
robberies  and  murders  he  could  remember,  and  then 
deftly  got  from  him  the  statement  that  his  master  had 
gone  to  bed,  leaving  up  only  himself,  the  bar-maid, 
and  his  wife.  Presently  the  doctor  looked  at  liis 
watch,  and  said  it  would  soon  be  time  for  us  to  go. 
'  I  think  you  had  better  get  our  bill,  Sandy,'  I  said, 
for  by  this  time  I  was  quite  on  familiar  terms  with  him, 


AT  THE  LOTOS  CLUB, 


105 


and  he  with  mc.  *  You  need  not  be  in  a  hurry  ;  let  us 
have  it  in  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour,'  added  Toole, 
somewhat  mysteriously.  *  Wc  are  not  quite  ready  to 
go  yet.' 

"'Vary  weel,  and  thank  ye,*  he  said,  at  the  same 
time  making  us  a  bow  which  was  quite  a  study  of 
manner,  combining  independence  and  servility.  He 
was  a  fine  old  fellow,  straight  as  a  poplar,  but  with  a 
face  full  of  wrinkles,  and  a  characteristic  gait  that 
some  people  would  call  a  mannerism. 

"  The  moment  he  left  the  room  each  of  u"  seized  a  piece 
of  plate  until  we  had  cleared  up  every  bit  of  silver  in  the 
room.  Wc  noted  the  exact  places  from  which  we  took 
every  piece ;  then  we  opened  the  window.  It  was  a 
very  dark  night,  but  we  had  noticed  that  close  by  the 
window  there  were  some  thick  shrubs.  We  put  out 
the  gas,  but  left  alight  two  candles  on  the  table,  so 
riiat  we  could  see  from  our  hiding-place  what  Sandy's 
face  would  look  like  when  it  should  dawn  upon  him 
that  we  were  a  pack  of  thieves  —  perhaps  part  of  the 
gang  of  swell  mobsmen  who  had  become  the  terror  of 
the  district. 

"I  shall  never  forget  the  bewildered  expressio'i  of 
the  poor  fellow's  face  as  he  stared  at  the  empty  room. 
Amazement  gave  place  to  fear,  and  fear  to  indig- 
nation, when  he  discovered  that  the  silver  had  been 
carried  off. 

" '  Great  heevens  ! '  he  exclaimed.  'Thieves  I  berg- 
lers  I  robbers  I  An'  if  the  rogues  hae  nae  carried  off 
the  plate  and  gan  awa'  wi'out  payin'  their  score  into 
the  bargain,  my  nami3  is  nae  Sandy  Blake  I  " 


106 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


m 


<  **  He  rushed  to  the  open  window  and  peered  wildly 
out  into  the  darkness.  .r^;•f: 

.   "'The   scoundrels  were  just  fooling  me,   like  any 
softy.*  •  .     V. 

"  Then  he  begon  to  shout '  Thieves  ! '  and  '  Murder  I ' 
and  ran  off,  as  we  hoped  and  expected  he  would,  to  alarm 
the  house.  We  all  citpt  back  to  the  room,  closed  the 
window,  drew  down  the  blind,  rehghted  the  gas  and 
our  cigars,  put  each  piece  of  silver  back  into  its 
proper  place,  and  sat  down  to  wait  for  our  bill.  We 
could  hear  Sandy,  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  telling  the 
story  of  the  robbery ;  and  in  a  few  minutes  we  heard, 
evidently  the  entire  household,  coming  pell-mell  to 
the  dining-room.  Then  our  door  was  fiung  open ;  but 
the  crowd,  instead  of  rushing  in  upon  us,  suddenly 
paused  en  masse,  and  Sandy  exclaimed,  '  Great  God  I 
Weel,  weel  I     Hae  I  just  gane  clean  daft?' 

"  '  Come  awa',  drunken  foo',  come  awa'  I '  exclaimed 
the  landlord,  pulHng  Sandy  and  the  rest  back  into  the 
passage  and  shutting  the  door ;  but  we  could  hear  how 
both  master  and  wife  abused  poor  Sandy,  who  did 
nothing  but  call  upon  his  Maker  and  declare,  if  he  had 
to  die  that  minute,  when  he  went  into  the  room  it  was 
empty  of  both  guests  and  silver.  He  was  told  to  go  to 
bed  and  sleep  off  his  drunk,  and  thank  his  stars  that 
his  long  service  saved  him  from  instant  dismissal. 

"  We  rang  the  bell.  The  landlord  himself  answered 
it.  We  asked  for  an  explanation  of  the  hubbub.  It 
was  nothing,  he  said,  only  that  his  man  had  got  drunk 
and  made  a  fool  of  himself.  Was  that  all,  we  asked. 
Well,  yes,  except  that  he  was  very  sorry  to  have  so 


AT  THE  LOTOS  CLUB. 


107 


disturbed  us.  To  have  all  the  house  burst  in  upon  us, 
we  said,  was  such  a  strange  proceeding,  that  we  begged 
he  would  explain  it.  He  said  he  did  not  like  to  do  so. 
It  was  the  first  time  Sandy  had  ever  been  known  to 
get  so  drunk  as  to  lose  his  senses,  and  all  he  could  do 
was  to  express  his  regret  that  his  servant  had  made  a 
fool  of  himself;  but  he  would  not  insult  his  guests  by 
telling  them  how  great  an  ass  the  fellow  was.  We 
coaxed  him,  however,  to  explain  the  entire  business ; 
and  at  last,  with  many  apologies,  he  told  us  how  the 
drunken  fool  had  mistaken  us  for  a  pack  of  thieves, 
and  swore  we  had  run  off  without  paying  our  bill  and 
taken  the  plate  with  us.  We  humored  the  landlord 
for  a  time,  and  when  he  was  at  last  in  a  genial  temper 
we  told  him  the  true  story,  and  he  enjoyed  the  joke  as 
well  as  any  of  us.  Then  we  had  him  send  for  Sandy, 
who  was  so  glad  to  discover  that  he  had  not  lost  his 
wits  that  a  couple  of  sovereigns  left  him,  at  our 
departure,  just  as  happy  and  contented  a  man  as  he 
was  before  making  the  acquaintance  of  '  a  parcel  of 
actors,'  who  are  still  regarded  in  some  remote  corners 
of  Great  Britain  as  the  *  rogues  and  vagabonds '  they 
arc  proclaimed  in  our  ancient  statute-books." 


108 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


V. 


fi; 


i! 


THE  NIGHT  BEFORE  THE  PLAY. 

The  Vividness  of  First  Impressions  —  New  York  Hotels  —  On  the  Ele- 
vated Road  with  '*  Charlie  "  —  Trotting  Horses  —  Audiences  on  both 
Sides  of  the  Atlantic  —  "A  Mar.  knows  best  what  he  can  do"  — 
"  Americanisms,"  so  called  —  A  Satirical  Sketch,  entitled  "  Bitten  by 
a  Dog"  —  Louis  and  the  Duke  of  Stratford-on-Avon  —  Macready  and 
the  Forrest  Riots. 

I. 

"A  JOURNALIST  from  Chicago  is  anxious  to  have 
your  opinion  of  New  York,  and  some  suggestions 
about  your  feelings  in  regard  to  your  first  appearance 
in  America,"  I  said;  "and  if  you  will  talk  to  him  I 
have  undertaken  to  collaborate  with  him  in  writing  the 
interview,  so  that  I  may  revise  and  adopt  it  for  our 
book  of  impressions." 

"Is  he  here?" 

"Yes,  he  has  come  over  a  thousand  miles  for  the 
pui*pose,  and  his  chief  is  an  old  friend  of  mine,  the  pro- 
prietor of  ^  The  Daily  News.'  " 

"I  am  quite  willing,"  he  said,  "if  you  think  my  im- 
pressions are  of  sufficient  importance  to  record,  after 
only  a  week  of  New  York." 

"  First  impressions  of  a  new  country  are  always  the 
most  vivid.  I  believe  in  first  impressions,  at  all 
events,  in  your  case.  It  is  another  matter  when  one 
comes  to  treat  them  as  a  basis  for  philosophical  argu- 
ment.    Your  friend,  Mr.  Matthew  Arnold,   was  not 


THE  NIGHT  BEFORE  THE  PLAY. 


109 


backward  in  discussing  the  American  people,  their 
cities,  their  institutions,  their  manners  and  customs,  be- 
fore he  had  crossed  the  Atlantic  at  all." 

"Well,  let  us  talk  to  Chicago  then,  if  you  wish  it." 

"  So  far,  are  you  satisfied  with  your  reception  in  this 
country  ?  " 

"  More  than  satisfied ;  I  am  delighted,  I  might  say 
amazed.  It  is  not  only  the  press  and  the  public  who 
have  shown  me  so  much  attention,  but  I  have  received 
many  courtesies  privately,  —  some  from  American 
friends  whom  I  have  met  in  London,  some  from 
gentlemen  whom  I  have  never  seen." 

"  What  is  your  general  impression  of  New  York,  its 
theatres,  hotels,  streets,  and  its  social  life?" 

"  I  think  Wallack's,  or  the  Star,  as  it  is  called,  one  of 
the  most  admirable  theatres  I  have  ever  seen,  so  far  as 
the  auditorium  is  concerned,  and,  in  some  respects,  as  to 
the  stage.  The  appointments  behind  the  footlights  are 
rather  primitive  ;  but,  as  a  whole,  it  is  a  fine  house." 

"  Is  it  as  good  as  your  own  in  London  ?  " 

"Better,  in  many  respects.  As  for  the  hotels,  they 
are  on  a  far  larger  scale,  and  seem  more  complete  in  their 
arrangements  than  ours.  The  Brevoort  is,  I  am  told, 
more  like  an  English  house  than  any  other  in  the  city. 
The  genial  proprietor  evidently  desires  to  make  his  guests 
think  so.  Portraits  of  Queen  Victoria,  the  late 
Prince  Consort,  and  pictorial  reminiscences  of  the  old 
country,  meet  you  at  every  turn.  As  for  social  life 
in  New  York,  what  I  have  seen  of  it  is  very  much  like 
social  life  in  London  —  a  little  different  in  its  forms  and 
ceremonies,  or,  I  might  say,  in  the  absence  of  cere- 


I 


110 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMEBIOA. 


mony  —  with  this  exception,  that  there  does  not  appear 
to  be  what  you  would  call  an  idle  class  here,  —  a  class 
of  gentlemen  who  have  little  else  to  do  but  to  be  amused 
and  have  what  you  call '  a  good  time . '  Everybody  seems 
to  be  engaged  in  business  of  some  kind  or  another." 

"  Is  this  your  first  visit  to  America  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  though  I  seem  to  have  known  it  for  a  long 
time.  American  friends  in  London  have  for  years 
been  telling  me  interesting  things  about  your  country. 
I  had  heard  of  the  elevated  road,  Brooklyn  bridge, 
and  the  splendid  harbor  of  New  York.  But  they  are 
all  quite  different  to  what  I  had  imagined  them.  The 
elevated  railway  is  a  marvellous  piece  of  work.  I 
rode  down-town  upon  the  Sixth-avenue  line  yesterday. 
They  compelled  me  to  carry  my  dog  Charlie ;  and  I 
notice,  by  the  way,  a  remarkable  absence  of  dogs  in 
the  streets.  You  see  them  everywhere,  you  know, 
in  London.  Charlie,  an  old  friend  of  mine,  attracted 
great  attention  on  the  cars." 

"  More  than  you  did  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  much  more.  He's  a  well-bred  little 
fellow,  and  one  gentleman,  who  took  a  great  interest 
in  him,  tried  to  open  negotiations  to  buy  him  from  me. 
Poor  Charlie  I  — he  is  getting  old  and  blind,  though  he 
looks  sprightly  enough.  He  has  travelled  with  me  in 
Europe  and  Africa,  and  now  in  America;  some  day 
we  hope  to  see  Asia  together." 

"  Does  he  go  with  you  to  the  theatre  ? " 

"  Always  ;  and  he  knows  the  pieces  I  play.  I  sup- 
pose he  knows  them  by  the  color  of  the  clothes  I 
wear.     During  some  plays  he  sniffs   about  all  night 


THE  NIQHT  BEFORE  THE  PLAT. 


Ill 


—  during  the  long  ones  he  settles  quietly  down. 
When  Hamlet  is  played  he  is  particularly  sedate.  He 
hates  the  'Lyons  Mail,'  because  there  is  shooting  in 
it.  When  the  murder  scene  comes  he  hides  away 
in  the  furthermost  corner  he  can  find." 

"  You  are  fond  of  animals  ?  "  •      . 

►  "  Yes,  very ;  and  the  most  characteristic  thing  I 
believe  I  have  yet  seen  in  America  is  your  trotting- 
horse.  I  have  been  twice  upon  the  track  beyond  the 
park;  it  is  a  wonderful  sight." 

"  Have  you  no  trotting-horses  in  England  ?  " 

"Nothing  like  yours,  and  no  light  vehicles  such  as 
yours.  I  could  only  think  of  the  old  chariot-races 
as  I  watched  the  teams  of  magnificent  trotters  that 
rushed  by  me  like  the  wind.  I  hear  you  have  a  fine 
race-course  at  Chicago.  Our  friend  Hatton  told  me 
long  ago  about  seeing  the  famous  Maud  S.  make  her 
great  time  there." 

"Oh,  yes.  I  remember  how  astonished  he  was. 
Maud  S.  and  our  fire-engine  service  captured  his 
fancy.  He  described  the  racing  in  'To-day  in  America.' 
You  arc  coming  to  Chicago  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  am  informed  that  I  shall  strike  quite  a 
different  civilization  in  your  city  to  that  of  New  York  ; 
that  public  life  with  you  is  even  more  ardent  than  it 
is  in  the  Empire  city,  and  that  the  spirit  of  your  com- 
merce is  more  energetic.  I  can  hardly  understand  that ; 
but  I  long  to  see  your  wonderful  streets  and  your  city 
bounJaries  that  daily  push  their  way  into  the  prairie. 
John  McCullough,  I  remember,  once  gave  me  a 
startling  description  of  Chicago." 


112 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERIGA, 


"  I  see  that  Mr.  Sala,  in  the  *  Illustrated  London 
News,'  warns  you  to  expect  our  press  to  attack  you. 
Is  Mr.  Sala  a  friend  of  yours?"  . 

**  Yes  ;  and  a  dear  friend  and  a  very  remarkable  man. 
But  we  are  wandering  a  little  from  the  subject  you 
came  to  talk  about." 

"  Not  much.  May  I  ask  if  you  have  any  nervous- 
ness as  to  your  first  appearance  ?  " 

"Yes,  the  natural  nervousness  that  is  part  of  an 
actor's  first  appearances  everywhere.  I  cannot  think 
that  the  taste  for  the  drama  is  any  different  in  New 
York  and  Chicago  from  Dublin,  Edinburgh,  Glas- 
gow, Liverpool,  Birmingham,  or  London,  in  my  own 
country." 

"  Very  much  is  expected  of  you.  It  would  be  hardly 
possible  for  you  to  realize  the  exaggerated  ideas  of  some 
people.  If  you  were  a  god  you  could  not  satisfy  their 
expectations." 

"  Nor,  if  I  were  a  demon,  could  I  achieve  the  atti- 
tudes and  poses  of  my  caricaturists.  Between  the  two 
there  is  hope." 

"  You  feel  that  it  is  a  great  ordeal  any  way  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Some  of  your  methods  are  new,  more  particularly 
as  to  Shakespearian  productions  ?  " 

"  I  believe  so.  In  my  early  days  I  had  little  oppor- 
tunity to  see  other  actors  play  Shakespeare,  except  on 
the  stage  where  I  acted  with  them,  and  then  I  was  so 
occupied  with  my  own  work  that  I  had  little  time 
to  observe  theirs.  I  had,  consequently,  to  think 
for    myself.     It    does    not    follow,    of   course,    that 


THE  NIGHT  BEFORE   THE  PLAY. 


113 


I  have  always  done  the  right  thing,  but  my  principle 
has  been  to  go  straight  to  the  author.  I  have 
not  taken  up  the  methods  of  other  actors,  nor 
modelled  my  work  on  this  or  that  tradition.  A 
man  knows  best  what  he  can  do ;  and  it  seems  to 
me  just  as  absurd  for  one  actor  to  imitate  another, 
to  recite  this  speech,  or  impersonate  that  action, 
as  he  has  seen  some  other  actor  recite  or  imper- 
sonate, as  it  would  be  for  a  writer  to  print  a  historical 
incident  just  as  some  other  had  done,  or  for  a  modern 
novelist  to  write  his  stories  on  the  lines  of  Fielding, 
Richardson,  or  Thackeray,  without  giving  play  to  his 
own  talents,  or  reins  to  his  own  imagination  and  con- 
ception of  character." 

"  I  will  not  weary  you  by  going  over  the  old  ground 
concerning  your  alleged  mannerisms ;  but  I  see  that 
a  New  York  paper  has  already  taken  you  to  task  for 
jesting  about  the  Pilgrim  fathers.  Did  you  notice 
that?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  you  mean  as  to  the  Pilgrim  mothers. 
I  had  no  intention  to  jest  about  Plymouth  rock.  I 
only  repeated  a  story  told  me  by  an  American  friend, 
the  point  of  which  was  that  the  austerity  of  the 
Pilgrim  fathers  must  have  made  them  trying  per- 
sons for  the  Pilgrim  mothers.  A  very  harmless  bit  of 
fun.  One  of  my  interviewers  makes  me  speak  of 
'Americanisms'  too.  The  word  should  have  been 
'mannerisms.'  In  regard  to  the  so-called  Americanisms 
of  American  actors,  all  I  have  heard  in  that  way  have 
fallen  from  the  lips  of  Raymond  and  Florence,  just  as  you 
would   hear     ockneyisms  from    our  humorous   come- 


I 


114 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


dians,  Toole  and  Brough.  The  accent  of  your  great 
actors  does  not  strike  me  as  different  to  our  own; 
though  a  reporter  on  board  the  '  Britannic,'  last  Sun- 
day, told  me  he  had  understood  I  had  a  very  strange 
accent,  and  was  surprised  to  find  that  I  spoke  English 
as  well  as  he  did." 


.-,,,.>  n. 

The  night  before  Irving's  first  appearance  at  the 
Star  Theatre  was  spent  at  a  quiet  little  supper,  given  to 
a  few  private  friends,  at  the  Manhattan  Club.  The 
conversation  turned  chiefly  upon  English  actors. 

"  I  was  once  at  a  dinner  of  a  theatrical  fund,  over 
which  a  famous  old  actor  presided,"  said  Irving.  "  His 
proposal  of  the  first  toast  of  the  evening  was  a  pathetic 
incident.  His  mind  was  wandering  back  to  his  early  days. 
After  alluding  to  the  loyalty  of  all  classes  of  English- 
men, and  ot  actors  in  particular,  he  raised  his  glass 
and  said,  '  Gentlemen,  I  beg  to  give  you  the  health  of 
His  Majesty  King  George  the  Third  I ' " 

Somebody  suggested  that  the  ocean  trip  had  done 
Irving  a  great  deal  of  good. 

"  It  was  the  most  perfect  rest  I  ever  remember  to 
have  had,"  he  said  ;  "  nothing  to  do,  nothing  to  think  of, 
no  letters  to  answer  —  none  to  receive,  for  that  matter ; 
nothing  to  do  but  to  rest.  I  took  plenty  of  exercise, 
also,  on  deck.  I  must  have  walked  many  miles  a 
day." 

Later  in  the  evening,  over  a  last  cigar,  he  said  to  me, 
"  But  I  did  a  little  writing  on  board  the  '  Britannic'  I 
think  it  will  amuse  you.  Watson  asked  me  to  send  him 


THE  NIGHT  BEFORE  THE  PLAY. 


115 


something  for  the  Christmas  number  of  his  newspaper,  — '• 
an  anecdote,  or  sketch  of  some  kind.  Shortly  before  I 
left  Liverpool  there  appeared  in  the  journals  a  paragraph 
to  the  effect  that  I  had  been  bitten  by  a  dog  at  some 
aristocratic  house.  It  occurred  to  me  on  the  *  Britan- 
nic' that  this  would  make  a  good  little  story.  You 
were  telling  me  last  night  about  my  estate  and  palace 
on  the  Thames ;  and  yet,  I  don't  suppose  any  man 
leads  a  quieter  life  than  I  do.  I  call  my  story  *  Bitten 
by  a  Dog.'" 

He  read  as  follows,  and,  like  all  good  humorists,  was 
tickled  with  his  own  fun,  laughing  now  and  then  with 
real  enjoyment  at  iLe  suggestiveness  of  his  satirical 
reference?  to  newspaper  gossips,  who,  not  knowing  him 
personally,  or  being  in  any  way  acquainted  with  his 
habits,  undertake  to  describe  his  inner  life :  — 


"  We  regret  to  hear  that  Mr.  Heniy  Irving,  while  on  a  visit 

near ,  was  severely  bitten  by  a  favorite  dog,  belonging 

to  his  host.  He  bled  profusely,  but  we  sincerely  hope  that  he 
will  not  seriously  suffer  from  this  occurrence. — Newspaper 
Paragraph. 

"  The  circumstance  thus  recorded  was  somewhot  novel 
to  me,  and  having  received  several  telegrams  and 
letters  of  condolence  upon  my  sad  misfortune,  I 
thought  I  would  attempt,  during  my  leisure  upon  the 
good  ship  '  Britannic,'  to  tell  this  little  story  of  *  The 
Bite  of  a  Dog,'  with  a  veracity  equalling  that  of  the 
inventor  of  the  above-quoted  paragraph. 

"Seated  in  one  of  the  suite  of  rooms  which  I  invari- 
ably occupy  in  the  hotels  of  the  United  Kingdom  dur- 


116 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


ing  my  provincial  tours,  — which  have  become  alike  the 
wonder  and  amazement  of  the  entire  dramatic  pro- 
fession,—  I  was  gazing  into  one  of  the  many  mirrors 
before  wliich  it  is  my  regular  habit  to  study  grace  of 
pose  and  poetry  of  expression.  I  was  surrounded  by 
the  secretaries  without  whom  I  never  travel ;  some 
telegraphing  to  the  four  corners  of  the  globe  the 
astounding  success  and  enormous  profit  which  accom- 
pany all  my  undertakings  ;  others  translating  some  of 
those  essays  on  dramatic  art  which  have  done  so  much 
to  regenerate  the  British  drama ;  others  copying  in 
manifold  certain  not  uncomplimentary  criticisms  of  my 
own  composition  upon  the  most  subtle  and  sublime  of 
my  impersonations  ;  for,  with  Garrick,  I  agree  that 
the  actor  should  ever  embrace  the  opportunity  of  be- 
coming the  critic  of  his  own  performances. 

"  In  the  midst  of  this  multitudinous  work  a  messenger 
was  announced  from  the  Duke  of  Stratford-upon-Avon. 
With  a  thrill  of  pleasure  I  sprang  to  my  feet,  and, 
greeting  the  messenger  with  a  fascinating  smile,  begged 
him  to  be  seated.  Then  throwing  myself  with  a  care- 
less ease  upon  the  velvet-pile  sofa  which  adorned  my 
room  (a  present  from  one  of  my  admirers,  and  which 
I  always  carry  with  me,  as  I  do  my  many  mirrors) ,  I 
crossed  my  graceful  right  over  my  still  more  graceful 
left  leg,  broke  the  duke's  seal,  and  perused  his  letter. 

"  It  was  an  invitation  to  sojourn  from  Saturday  to 
Monday  at  the  duke's  feudal  home,  some  fifteen  miles 
from  the  town  I  was  then  appearing  in.  Throughout 
my  life  it  has  been  my  practice  to  solicit  the  favor  and 
patronage  of  the  great ;  for  it  is  ray  firm  belief  that,  to 


TIIE  NIQUT  BEFORE   THE  PLAT. 


117 


elevate  one's  art,  one  should  mix  as  much  as  possible 
with  the  nobility  and  gentry. 

•' '  To  grovel  to  the  great  is  no  disgrace, 
For  nothing  humble  can  be  out  of  place.' 

"This  social  opportunity  was  not  to  be  lost ;  hesitation 
there  was  none  ;  the  invitation  was  accepted. 

"On  the  night  of  my  visit  to  His  Grace,  the  theatre 
was  crammed  from  floor  to  ceiling  with  an  audience 
attracted  by  that  cold  curiosity  wliich  characterizes  the 
public  with  regard  to  my  performances.  The  play  was 
'Louis  XI.,'  and  the  difficult  feat  which  I  had  to 
accomplish  was  to  catch  a  train  after  the  performance, 
in  order  to  present  myself  at  the  mansion  of  my  noble 
host  in  time  to  participate  in  the  ducal  supper. 

"  Throughout  the  play  I  labored  with  all  heart  and 
earnestness  to  cut  short  the  performance  by  every 
means  in  my  power.  I  was  determined  to  sleep  under 
the  roof  of  the  Stratford-upon-Avons  that  night,  come 
what  come  would. 

"  The  curtain  fell  only  five  minutes  before  the  time 
of  the  train  starting ;  so,  throwing  on  my  overcoat  of 
sable  furs  (a  handsome  adjunct  to  my  American  expe- 
dition), and,  still  attired  as  King  Louis,  —  for  I  had 
no  time  to  change  my  costume,  —  I  rushed  into  the 
brougham,  ready  at  the  stage-door,  and,  followed  by 
rny  valet^  drove  frantically  to  the  station. 

"  I  was  thrust  immediately  through  the  open  door  of 
the  nearest  compartment  —  the  door  was  locked  —  the 
whistle  shrieked  —  away  sped  the  train  —  and,  panting 
and  breathless,  I  was  left  to  my  meditations. 


118 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


"  'Ah,  horror  1  most  dreadful  thought ;  too  dreadful 
to  relate  I  I  have  left  the  theatre  without  my  teeth, 
—  my  beautiful  teeth  I ' 

"  In  order  to  heighten  the  realism  of  the  impersona- 
tion when  I  first  acted  Louis,  I  had  several  teeth  ex- 
tracted by  one  of  our  most  eminent  dentists,  who  has 
offered,  as  an  advertisement,  to  take  out  any  others  in 
the  like  liberal  manner.^  In  my  insane  hurry  to  catch 
the  train  I  had  left  my  teeth  in  a  glass  on  my  dressing- 
room  table. 

"But  regrets  are  useless  ;  the  train  has  stopped,  and 
I  enter  the  duke's  chariot,  in  waiting  at  the  station,  and 
through  the  broad  woodlands  soon  reach  the  duke's 
home. 

"I  alight  from  the  ancestral  coach  and  enter  the 
ancestral  hall,  in  which  a  cheerful  fire  is  blazing  upon 
the  ancestral  hearth. 

"  Suddenly  I  find  myself  in  the  presence  of  my  host, 
surrounded  by  many  scions  of  the  nobility  of '  England, 
Home,  and  Beauty.'  The  oddness  of  my  position 
(dressed  as  I  was,  and  minus  my  teeth) ,  and  the  natural 
inferiority  which  I  always  feel  when  in  the  presence  of 
the  real  aristocrat,  robbed  me  for  the  moment  of  my 
self-possession,  and  I  unconsciously  permitted  two  of 


^  This  stoiy  was  reprinted  in  several  American  papers.  A  dentist  of 
some  note  in  a  leading  city,  not  appreciating  its  satire,  wrote  a  long  letter 
to  Mr.  Ii-ving,  offering  to  make  him  a  new  set  of  teeth,  on  a  patented 
system  of  his  own,  which  had  given  great  pleasure  to  a  number  of 
eminent  American  ladies  and  gentlemen.  lie  enclosed  a  list  of  his  clients, 
and  the  price  of  their  teeth.  As  an  inducement  for  Irving  to  accept  his 
proposals,  he  quoted  *'  veiy  moderate  terms,"  on  condition  that  "  if  satis- 
factoiy  "  he  should  **  have  the  use  of  his  name  "  in  public,  thus  **  acting 
up  to  the  libeiid  principles  of  the  English  practitioner." 


L 


/ 


THE  NIOHT  BEFORE  THE  PLAY. 


119 


the  gentlemen  in  powder  to  divest  me  of  my  overcoat, 
and  there  I  stood  revealed  as  that  wicked  monarch 
Louis  XI. 

"  Now,  this  character  I  have  long  had  an  idea  of 
abandoning,  for  in  art  the  eye  must  be  pleased ;  and 
though  it  is  commendable  to  follow  nature  and  truth, 
yet,  if  this  can  only  be  accomplished  at  the  cost  of  one's 
personal  appearance,  nature  and  truth  should  certainly 
give  way.     But  to  resume. 

"  Surprise  at  my  aspect  was  in  every  face.  There 
was  a  painful  pause,  and  then  a  burst  of  laughter. 

"'  What  is  it?'  whispered  one. 

"  *  Who  is  it  ? '  whispered  another. 

"'Irving,'  said  a  third. 

" '  Who's  Irving  ? '  asked  a  fourth. 

" '  What  I  don't  you  know  ?  —  the  actor  —  Irving, 
the  actor  —  I've  seen  him  at  the  Gaiety  I  * 

"  I  was  profoundly  relieved  by  the  duke  coming  to 
my  rescue  and  graciously  suggesting  that  I  might,  be- 
fore supper,  wish  to  see  my  room.  I  thanked  His 
Grace  with  the  dignity  with  which  nature  has  endowed 
me,  and  strode  like  Marshal  Stalk  across  the  marble 
vestibule,  when  a  fierce  sanguinary  Blenheim  spaniel 
flew  from  the  lap  of  a  dowager  duchess,  and,  with  a 
terrific  howl,  buried  its  fangs  in  the  calf  of  my  beauti- 
ful left  leg. 

"  Consternation  and  pallor  were  in  every  countenance  ; 
the  dowager  ran  to  seize  her  pet ;  but,  to  the  dismay  of 
all,  the  dog's  hold  would  not  relax.  They  pulled  and 
pulled  again,  and  '  Fido  '  howled  at  every  pull.  His 
teeth,  unlike  mine,  would  not  be  extracted. 


120 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMEJtlGA. 


"  There  was  a  pause  of  painful  silence.  Mingled 
fear  and  compassion  sat  on  every  brow.  The  dowager 
was  on  the  point  of  swooning  in  the  arms  of  the  duke, 
when  the  dignity  and  distinction  which  sometimes  sup- 
port me  in  emergencies  came  to  my  aid.  Turning  to 
the  gentle  assembly,  with  a  seraphic  smile  upon  my 
noble  features,  I  said,  as  well  as  my  articulation  would 
p<3rmit  me :  — 

"  '  Be  not  alarmed,  fair  ladies  ;  be  not  alarmed  I  The 
dog  has  not  torn  my  leg,  he  has  only  torn  my  pad- 
dings I ' " 


III. 

"  Good-night,"  I  said,  "  and  good  luck  I  When 
next  we  say  good-night  New  York  will  have  pro- 
nounced its  verdict." 

"  I  don't  believe  in  luck,"  he  answered.  "It  will  be  all 
right.  But  it  seems  strange,  after  all  our  talks  of 
America,  that  to-morrow  night  I  am  to  act  here  in  New 
York.  How  everything  comes  to  an  end  I  Next  year  at 
this  time,  all  being  well,  we  shall  be  looking  back  upon 
the  whole  tour,  recalling  incidents  of  New  York,  Bos- 
ton, Philadelphia,  Chicago,  Baltimore,  Washington ; 
and  1  dare  say  it  will  appear  very  much  like  a  dream. 
It  was  not  far  from  this  hotel  where  Macready  found 
rcfu<,e  from  the  mob,  in  a  friend's  house.  During 
this  week  several  persons  who  were  present  have  men- 
tioned the  riots  to  me,  and  they  all  blame  Forrest. 
I  told  them  Forrest  had  some  reason  to  believe  that 
Macready  had  set  Forster  against  him,  which,  no 
doubt,  helped  to  embitter  Forrest's  mind.     They  say. 


t.  .  - 


THE  NIGRT  BEFORE   THE  PLAT. 


121 


I 


however,  that  Forrest's  hatred  of  English  actors 
amounted  to  something  like  a  mania.  He  must  have 
been  a  remarkable  and  great  actor  in  many  parts."  ^ 

1  The  misunderstanding  between  Fon'cst  and  Macrcady  has  been  canvassed 
and  discussed  in  most  histories  of  the  modern  stage.  Forrest  believed 
that  his  ill-success  in  London  was  the  result  of  a  plot  on  the  part  of 
Macready  to  write  him  down.  So  fixed  in  his  mind  was  this  view  of  his 
failure,  that  brooding  over  it  evidently  unmanned  him.  He  went  to  the 
Edinburgh  Theatre  (shortly  before  he  left  England  for  America)  and 
hissed  Macready  in  Uamlet.  In  a  letter  to  the  Pennaylvanian,  Nov.  22, 
1848,  he  wrote : —  ,  ^^,.. 

"  On  the  occasion  alluded  to,  Mr.  Macrcady  introduced  a  fancy  dance 
into  his  performance  of  Hamlet,  which  I  designated  as  a  pas  de  tiouchoir, 
and  which  I  hissed,  for  I  thought  it  a  desecration  of  the  scene ;  and  the 
audience  thought  so,  too ;  for,  a  few  nights  afterwards,  when  Mr.  Macrcady 
repeated  the  part  of  Hamlet  with  the  same  '  tomfoolciy,'  the  intelligent 
audience  greeted  it  with  a  universal  hiss. 

"  Mr.  Macready  is  stated  to  have  said  last  night  that  he  '  had  never  en- 
tertained towards  me  a  feeling  of  unkindness.'  I  unhesitatingly  pronounce 
this  to  be  a  wilful  and  unblushing  falsehood.  I  most  solemnly  aver,  and 
do  believe,  that  Mr.  Macrcady,  instigated  by  his  narrow,  envious  mind  and 
selfish  fears,  did  secretly  —  not  openly  —  suborn  several  writers  for  the 
English  press  to  write  me  down.  Among  them  was  one  Forster,  a  '  toady' 
of  the  eminenttragedian,  —  one  who  is  ever  ready  to  do  his  dirty  work ;  and 
this  Forster,  at  the  bidding  of  his  patron,  attacked  me  in  print,  even  before 
I  had  appeared  upon  the  London  boards,  and  continued  to  abuse  me  at 
every  opportunity  afterwards.  i,,  i  •, 

"1  assert  also,  and  solemnly  believe,  that  Mr.  Macready  connived,  when 
his  friends  went  to  the  theatre  in  London,  to  hiss  me,  and  did  hiss  me,  with 
the  purpose  of  driving  me  fi'om  the  stage ;  and  all  this  happened  many 
months  before  the  affair  at  Edinburgh,  to  which  Mr.  Macready  refers,  and 
in  relation  to  which  he  jesuitically  ij^marked,  that '  until  that  act  he  never 
entertained  towards  me  a  feeling  of  unkindness.'  " 

It  is  worth  while  adding  in  this  place  the  following  interesting  account 
of  the  fatal  riot,  which  is  extracted  from  Barrett's  life  of  Edwin  Forrest 
published  by  Jas.  R.  Osgood  &  Co.,  in  1881 :  — 

"  On  the  7th  of  May,  1848,  Macready  began  an  engagement  at  the  Astor 
Place  Opera  House,  under  the  management  of  J.  H.  Ilackett.  The  theatre 
was  packed  by  his  enemies,  and  he  was  hooted  from  the  stage.    He  pre- 


122 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


Irving  little  thought  that  in  the  reminiscences  of  a 
past,  which  had  yet  to  come,  would  be  an  incident 
that  should  inseparably  link  his  own  name  with  the 
Forrest-Macready  riots. 

pared  to  return  to  las  own  countiy,  but  was  persuaded  by  bis  friends  to 
remain,  in  order  tbat  be  migbt  see  bow  far  tbe  public  indorsed  tbe  opposi- 
tion against  him.  An  invitation  to  tbis  effect,  signed  by  many  of  tbe  best 
citizens  of  New  Yoi'k,  was  taken  as  a  defiance  by  tbe  admirers  of  Foirest, 
who  prepared  to  meet  the  issue.  Forrest  was  playing  at  the  Broadway 
Theatre,  and  on  tbe  IGtb  of  May,  Macready,  at  the  Astor  Place  bouse, 
was  announced  to  reappear  as  Macbeth.  The  authorities  had  been  called  to 
tbe  aid  of  the  signers  of  the  call,  and  when  the  doors  were  opened  the  theatre 
was  instantly  filled  by  a  crowd  of  persons  favorable  to  the  actor,  while  the 
great  mass  of  bis  enemies  were  excluded.  These  filled  the  street,  however, 
while  the  few  who  did  gain  admission  showed  their  opposition  upon  the  ap- 
pearance of  Macready.  At  the  first  attempt  the  assailants  were  confronted 
by  a  body  of  Macready'a  friends  within  the  theatre  too  powerful  to  be 
resisted ;  but  the  majority  without  added  a  threatening  reinforcement  when 
the  decisive  moment  for  violence  should  arrive. 

"  The  play  was  stopped.  Macready,  bustled  from  the  back  door  in  the 
cloak  of  a  friend,  barely  escaped  with  his  life,  and  the  mimic  tragedy  within 
doors  gave  way  to  tbe  approaching  real  tragedy  without.  The  theatre  was 
attacked  on  all  sides  by  tbe  mob,  and  its  destruction  seemed  inevitable. 
Troops  were  called  out ;  the  order  was  given  to  disperse.  The  angry  crowd 
only  booted  a  reply  of  derision.  Tbe  riot  act  was  read  amid  the  yells  and 
oaths  of  tbe  blood-seeking  rabble ;  stones  and  missiles  were  hurled  at  the 
Seventh  Regiment;  the  police  gave  way  before  tbe  overpowering  numbers 
of  the  mob,  and  at  last,  tbe  soldiers,  sore  pressed,  wounded,  and  nearly 
demoralized  by  the  assaults  which  they  were  not  allowed  to  repulse,  were 
called  upon  to  fire.  They  responded  with  blank  cartridges,  which  only  in- 
creased the  fury  of  the  crowd.  A  pause,  and  then  the  order  was  given  to 
load  with  balls.  A  volley  was  fired :  tbe  cries  were  bushed ;  tbe  smoke 
cleared  away ;  tbe  ground  was  red  wilii  the  blood  of  some  thirty  unfortu- 
nate men ;  the  rioters  vanished  into  the  darkness  before  tbat  bail  of  wrath, 
and  the  stain  of  blood  was  upon  that  quarrel  which  began  far  away  in  Old 
England  and  ended  so  tragically  here." 


TEE  BELLS. 


123 


-■■•1 


VI. 


THE  BELLS. 

A  Stormy  Night  in  New  York  —  Ticket-Speculators  at  Work — A  First- 
night  Audience  —  Mathias  received  with  Enthusiasm — Behind  the 
Scenes  —  Ligliting  the  Stage  —  Eeturning  Thanks — Ci'iticism  of  the 
Crowd — John  Gilbert's  Opinion  —  Actor  and  Audience  —  English 
Play-goers  and  Londoners  —  Laughter  and  Applause  —  An  Artistic 
Triumph. 

I. 

Torrents  of  rain  without,  and  a  great  fashionable 
crowd  within  the  Star  Theatre,  inaugurated  Irving'a 
first  appearance  on  the  American  stage. 

The  electric  lights,  away  up  among  the  wet  clouds 
that  emptied  themselves  over  Union  square,  flashed 
coldly  on  untended  roadways,  which  vehicles  of  all 
kinds  churned  into  rivers  of  mud.  The  architectural 
surroundings  of  the  place  and  the  well-appointed  car- 
riages that  dashed  alon"*  to  the  Star  Theatre  and  the 
opera  were  singularly  out  of  keeping  with  the  broken 
streets  and  the  everlasting  telegraph  poles  of  the 
American  continent. 

It  was  a  night  on  which  London  would  have  hesi- 
tated to  turn  out  of  its  comfortable  homes  to  greet  even 
the  most  illustrious  stranger ;  for  the  rain  was  tropical 
in  its  density.  It  splashed  on  the  pavements  in  great 
drops,  or,  taken  hold  of  by  the  wind,  came  at  you  in 
sheets  of  water.  Carriage-horses  were  protected  with 
"rubber  cloths,"  and  the  people  who  stepped  out  of  the 


124 


IMPBESSIONS   OF  AMERICA. 


I  ; 


cars  at  the  top  of  Broadway,  or  were  driven  to  the  door 
of  the  theatre  in  the  public  stages,  were  enveloped  in 
"  water-proofs."  Nevertheless,  the  moment  they  alighted 
they  were  mobbed  by  a  band  of  ticket-speculators, 
■who  followed  or  preceded  them  into  the  broad  vestibule 
of  the  theatre,  hawking  seats  even  under  the  box-office 
windows.  In  appearance  these  energetic  dealers  were 
the  counterpart  of  the  betting  men  you  may  see  on 
any  English  race-course,  —  the  same  in  manner,  and 
almost  in  voice.  They  were  warmly  and  well  clad, 
had  satchels  strapped  to  their  shoulders ;  but,  instead 
of  shouting,  "  Two  to  one,  bar  one  !  "  "I'll  bet  on  the 
field  1  "  and  other  similar  invitations  to  do  business, 
they  announced,  in  hoarse  tones,  "I  have  seats  in  the 
front  row  !  "  "  Orchestra  seats,  third  row  I  "  "  I  have  the 
best  seats  in  the  orchestra  !  "  These  New  York  specu- 
lators held  in  one  hand  a  thick  bundle  of  notes,  and  a 
packet  of  tickets  in  the  other.  They  had  change  ready 
for  any  note  you  might  offer  them,  and  their  tickets 
were  frequently  what  they  represented  them  to  be,  "for 
the  choicest  locations." 

ii  For  some  time  a  notable  crowd  of  persons ,  distinguished 
in  New  York  society,  pushed  their  way  to  seats  which 
they  had  already  secured,  many  of  them  at  a  premium  of 
one  hundred  per  cent,  beyond  the  box-office  rates. ^     A 


i  ^1 


1  Among  the  audience  (says  the  "Tribune")  were  Miss  Ellen  Teny 
herself,  accompauied  by  an  elderly  gentleman,  with  gray  hair,  who  to 
some  was  known  to  be  Felix  Moscheles,  Mendelssohn's  godson,  with  his 
wife,  and  a  young  man  of  boyish  appearance,  known  to  many  as  the  son  of 
Lord  Coleridge.  In  the  other  boxes  were  W.  II.  Vanderbilt,  Chauncey  M. 
Depew,  Judge  Brady,  Augustus  Schcll,  Algernon  S.  Sullivan,  John  II. 
Stai'in    aad  Mrs.    Starin,  Howard  C^ri-oU  and  Mrs.  Carroll,  Madame 


TEE  BELLS. 


125 


large  number  of  persons  waited  in  the  vestibule  until  the 
curtain  should  go  up,  in  the  hope  that  the  speculators 
would,  for  a  moderate  consideration,  relax  their  grip  on 
"  choice  seats."  Many  tickets  were  sold,  however,  in  the 
street,  and  in  the  vestibule  of  the  theatre,  for  sums 
varying  from  five  to  ten  dollars.  Later  in  the  even- 
ing, during  the  first  and  second  acts  of  the  play,  the 
speculators  parted  with  the  balance  of  their  property 
at  box-office  rates,  which  they  readily  obtained. 

The  entire  floor  of  an  American  theatre  is  devoted 
to  stall  seats.  Ladies  and  gentlemen  who  occupied  the 
back  seats  had  to  submit  to  constant  arrivals  all  through 
the  first  and  second  acts.  The  doors  at  the  Star  Theatre 
open  right  upon  the  audience.  They  were  swinging 
backwards  and  forwards  during  the  first  half  hour  of 
the  piece.  It  is  a  universal  habit  in  America  not  to  be 
seated  at  the  time  announced  for  the  curtain  to  go  up. 
Add  to  this  the  obstruction  of  the  ticket-speculators, 
and  the  premium  they  offer  to  late  comers.  Sup- 
plement these  disturbing  elements  with  a  wet  night, 
the  natural  annoyance  of  individuals  who  have  paid 
large  premiums  for  their  seats,   the  prejudice  against 

Nilsson,  Dr.  Dorcmus  and  Mi's.  Doremus,  Mrs.  Lester  Wallack  and  Mrs. 
Ai-tlmr  Wallack,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  Bond,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Foord, 
^Ii"s.  Charles  Leland,  Henry  Roscner  and  Mrs.  Rosener,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Theodore  Moss.  Among  other  well-known  faces  in  the  audience  were 
noticed  those  of  ex-Jud<re  Horace  Russell,  General  Horace  Porter,  Colonel 
and  Mra.  Tohias,  of  Philadelphia ;  General  Winslow,  Dr.  Fordyce  Barker, 
(ieor^fe  J.  Gould,  John  Gilbert,  Rafael  JosefFy,  Dr.  Robert  Laird  Collier, 
of  Chicago ;  Oscar  Meyer  and  Mrs.  Meyer,  Mrs.  John  T.  Raymond,  Ilany 
Edwards,  Daniel  Bixby,  Charles  Dudley  Warner,  John  IL  Bird,  Mrs.  Jolin 
Nesbitt,  Miss  Jeffrey  Lewis,  Laurence  Ilutton,  Mr.  E.  A.  Buck,  Mr.  White- 
law  Reid,  Colonel  Knox,  ex-Governor  Dorsheimcr,  William  Winter,  aud 
Dr.  Macdonald. 


12G 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


Irving  which  had  been  persistently  promoted  by  his 
few  but  active  enemies ;  and  you  will  understand  the 
severity  of  the  ordeal  of  this  first  appearance  in  the 
United  States. 

n. 

A  ROUND  of  applause  greeted  the  rise  of  the  curtain 
upon  the  first  scene  of  "  The  Bells."  The  audience 
thus  testified  their  desire  to  be  kindly;  but,  as  the 
first  part,  of  the  story  was  told,  there  was  a  certain  im- 
patience even  in  their  recognition  of  the  artistic  sim- 
plicity of  the  scene.  "  The  Bells  "  opens  move  like  a 
novel  than  a  play ;  and  yet  the  suggestiveness  of  the 
narrative  at  the  table,  as  the  topers  chat  and  drink,  is 
singularly  dramatic.  On  this  first  night  the  play 
seemed  to  drag,  and  the  audience  were  on  the  tiptoe 
of  expectation.  Those  who  were  comfortably  seated 
were  anxious  for  the  appearance  of  Irving;  those 
who  poured  in  to  fill  vacant  seats  at  the  back,  and 
the  hundreds  who  pushed  in  to  stand  behind  them, 
created  an  uncomfortable  sensation  of  disquiet.  Had 
the  Star  been  a  London  theatre,  the  patience  of  the 
people  who  were  seated  would  have  been  so  seriously 
taxed  that  they  would  hardly  have  permitted  the  play 
to  proceed  until  order  had  been  secured  in  all  parts  of 
the  house. 

At  last  the  door  of  the  burgomaster's  home-like  inn 
is  flung  open,  and  Irving  stands  there  in  his  snow- 
sprinkled  furs,  his  right  hand  raised  above  his  head 
in  the  action  of  greeting  his  family,  his  left  hand 
grasping  his  whip.  His  entrance  was  never  more  natural, 


m 


THE  BELLS. 


127 


never  more  picturesque.  The  audience  hardly  heard 
his  opening  words,  —  "It's  I!"  They  greeted  him 
with  thunders  of  applause,  and  shouts  of  welcome. 
He  presently  stepped  forward  from  the  door.  Those 
who  knew  him  would  not  fail  to  detect  an  effort  to 
control  his  emotions,  when  he  bowed  his  acknowl- 
edgments of  a  greeting  as  spontaneous  as  it  was 
hearty.  I  had  seen  him  in  his  dressing-room  only  a 
short  time  before.  He  was  anxious,  but  firm  as  a  rock ; 
not  in  doubt  of  his  own  powers,  but  impressed,  as  any 
man  might  be,  under  similar  circumstances,  with  the 
knowledge  of  how  high  the  expectations  of  the  people 
had  been  raised  ;  how  great  the  task  of  even  approach- 
ing the  standard  of  their  excited  hopes. 

And  now  that  the  audience,  touched  by  the  artistic 
novelty  of  his  appearance,  and  moved  by  their  senti- 
ments of  hospitality,  had  given  vent  to  their  feelings, 
they  settled  down  to  allow  the  actor,  of  whose  methods 
they  had  heard  so  much,  to  conquer  their  favorable 
opinion  if  he  could.  Despite  the  prejudices  of  some, 
and  the  annoyance  of  those  who  had  been  victimized  by 
the  speculators,  auditors  were  willing  to  be  captured, — 
nay,  were  desirous,  if  they  could  honestly  do  so,  to 
endorse  the  verdict  of  their  cousins  of  England,  as  to  the 
place  which  Henry  Irving  holds  in  dramatic  art. 

"  The  Bells  "  is  a  weird  play.  Its  lines  are  simple  ; 
it  never  halts.  Mathias  is  an  inn-keeper.  He  murders 
his  guest,  a  Polish  Jew,  murders  him  on  the  highway 
for  his  gold,  and  is  forever  haunted  by  his  crime. 
The  jangle  of  the  sleigh-bells,  as  the  Jew's  horse  gallops 
away  after  its  master's  death,  is  continually  in  the  as- 


128 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


l\ 


sassin's  ears.  Their  sad  music  trickles  through  the 
story  like  the  ripple  of  a  rising  stream  through  stub- 
ble-fields in  autumn.  It  sweeps  over  the  dramatic 
narrative  lilce  the  si^hinor  of  the  wind  in  "  chill 
October."  Remorse  takes  possession  of  the  criminal ; 
he  dreams  he  is  being  tried  for  his  life. 

This  scene  affords  special  opportunities  for  illus- 
trating Irving's  dramatic  magnetism.  The  judicial 
court  of  his  dreamland  forces  him  to  submit  to  the 
operations  of  a  mesmerist.  Under  this  influence  he 
makes  confession  of  his  crime  by  reenacting  it. 
Nothing  more  weirdly  suggestive  can  be  imagined. 
Before  an  audience  as  breathless  as  the  court,  the 
actor  went  through  the  pantomime  of  stopping  the 
Jew's  horse,  cutting  down  the  Jew  with  an  axe, 
plundering  the  body  and  thrusting  it  into  a  lime- 
kiln. Then,  convicted  and  condemned,  the  murderer 
dies  under  the  violent  shock  to  his  nerves  of  this  re- 
tributive force  of  imagination,  —  dies  while  the  church- 
bells  are  ringing  for  his  daughter's  marriage,  —  his  last 
agonizing  words,  "  Take  the  rope  from  my  throat  I  " 

Only  a  daring  artist  would  undertake  such  a  part ; 
only  a  great  one  could  succeed  in  it.  Most*  of  the 
second  and  last  acts  is  a  monologue ;  and,  in  a  country 
like  America,  which  is  accustomed  to  rapidity  of 
thought  and  action,  Irving  was  courageous  in  risking  the 
result  of  so  serious  a  strain  upon  the  mind  of  a  highly 
strung  audience.  The  experiment,  however,  was  entirely 
a  truimph,  notwithstanding  the  previously-mentioned 
discomforts  attending  an  overcrowded  house,  and  the 
rain  that  stormed  without.  •  v  "  »■ 


THE  BELLS. 


129 


III.  ^ 

The  curtain  having  fallen  on  the  first  act,  Irving  re- 
ceived the  honor  of  a  triple  call,  after  which  I  went 
to  his  room,  and  found  him  reading  some  of  the 
numerous  cables  and  telegrams  from  home,  and  from 
several  distant  American  and  Canadian  cities,  wishing 
him  success. 

"  How  kind  everybody  is  I "  he  exclaimed,  as  he 
handed  me  a  bundle  of  despatches.  "You  should 
have  seen  the  hundreds  of  telegrams  and  letters  that 
were  sent  to  me  on  board  the  steamer  as  I  was  leaving 
Liverpool  I " 

"  You  are  pleased  ?  "  ' 

"More  than  pleased,"  he  said.  "What  an  audi- 
ence !  I  never  played  to  a  more  sympathetic  lot  of 
people  in  my  life.  They  respond  to  every  movement 
and  point  of  the  scene  with  a  marvellous  prompti- 
tude." 

"You  still  feel  that  you  are  among  friends?"  ^ 

"I  do,  indeed." 

"I  believe  you  played  that  first  act  to-night  better 
than  ever  you  played  it  in  London." 

"Do  you  think  so?     'Art  is  long  and  life  is  fleet- 


ing- 


>  j> 


There  was  in  the  atmosphere  behind  the  footlights 
something  of  the  electricity  of  a  first  night  at  the 
Lyceum,  —  no  fuss,  but  a  suppression  of  feeling, 
a  kind  of  setting  of  the  teeth  and  a  girding  up  of 
the  loins.  The  fine  "  property "  horse  of  the  vision 
scene,   covered   with   snow  that  would  not  melt,  had 


I 


n 


130 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


been  dragged  to  the  rear,  and  the  stage  was  being 
set  for  the  trial  scene.  Mr.  Frank  Tyars  had  donned 
his  ermine  as  the  judge,  the  mesmerist  was  ready  at 
the  wing,  the  last  nail  was  being  driven  into  the 
judicial  bench.  The  local  stage-hands  and  supers 
were  at  last  evidently  impressed  with  the  importance 
of  attention  to  some  little  matter  of  detail  which  they 
had  daily  tried  to  shirk  at  rehearsal.  Tliere  had 
even  been  difficulties,  on  the  stage  and  off,  in  regard 
to  the  regulation  of  the  lights.  Prominent  gas- 
brackets had  been  removed  from  the  auditorium,  but 
the  lowering  of  the  lights  down  nearly  to  darkness 
for  the  last  act  of  "The  Bells"  had  been  resisted. 
Later,  however,  Mr.  Loveday  found  his  New  York 
collaborators  in  this  respect  willing  allies ;  and  within 
the  first  week  the  man  who  had  charge  of  the  calcium 
lights  said,  "I  have  seen  them  all;  every  one  of  the 
great  actors  and  stage-managers  ;  and  they  don't  begin 
to  know  as  much  about  li.ihting  the  stage  as  this  Mr. 
Henry  Irving  has  forgottt.  a  !  " 

A  breathless  silence  testified  to  the  impressiveness  of 
the  last  act.  You  might  almost  have  fancied  you  heard, 
in  the  car-bells  of  the  streets,  faint  echoes  of  the  sleigh- 
bells  that  jangled  in  the  ears  of  Mathias.  I  remember 
the  first  night  of  "  The  Bells,"  at  the  Lyceum.  The 
stillness  in  this  New  York  house,  as  Mathias  died  of 
imaginary  strangulation,  reminded  me  of  the  London 
theatre  on  that  occasion.  The  sensation  in  the  two 
houses  was  the  same.  Nobody  moved  until  the  thud 
of  the  drop-curtain  roller  emphatically  announced  the 
end.    Then  the  Star  audience,  as  the  Lyceum  audience 


!ii!^:l 

l|i!i''ii' 
!(!i!il; 


TEE  BELLS. 


131 


had  (lone  before   them,  gave  vent  to   their  enthusi- 
asm. 

Called  and  recalled,  Irving  appeared  before  the  cur- 
tain. Then  there  was  a  cry  of  "  Speech  I  "  "Speech  I" 
whereupon,  he  said :  — 

"Ladies  and  Gentlemen,  —  I  believe  it  is  a  cus- 
tom with  you  to  allow  an  actor  to  thank  you  for  the 
pleasure  you  have  given  to  him ;  and  I  will  avail 
myself  of  that  custom  now,  to  say  that  I  thank  you 
with  all  my  heart  and  soul.  It  seems  to  me  that  the 
greatness  of  your  welcome  typifies  the  greatness  of 
your  nation.  I  thank  you,  and,  '  beggar  that  I  am,  I 
am  even  poor  in  thanks.'  Let  me  say  that  my  com- 
rades are  also  deeply  sensible  of  your  kindness,  and  let 
me  add  that  I  hope  you  will  give  a  warmer  welcome, 
if  such  were  possible,  than  I  have  received,  to  my 
associate  and  friend,  Miss  Ellen  Terry,  who  will  have 
the  honor  jf  appearing  before  you  to-morrow  night. 
And,  finally,  if  it  be  not  a  liberty,  will  you  allow  me 
to  express  the  hope  *  that  our  loves  may  increase  even 
as  our  days  do  grow.'" 


As  the  audience  left  the  theatre,  the  opinions  ex- 
pressed accentuated  the  reality  of  the  actor's  success. 
"  The  things  that  have  been  said  about  his  mannerisms 
are  shameful " ;  "  Why,  he  has  no  more  mannerisms 
than  Booth  !  "  "  I  never  was  more  agreeably  surprised  "  ; 
"  He  speaks  like  an  educated  American  "  ;  "  And  in  the 
street  looks  like  a  Yale  or  Harvard  professor  "  ;  "  Never 
saw  anything  finer";  "Most  awfully  impressive  scene, 


fW  f 


132 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


that  last  act " ;  "  Stage  magnetism  in  the  highest 
degree " ;  "  Guess  he  is  safe  for  the  biggest  run  of 
popularity  of  any  actor  or  any  man  who  has  ever  come 
to  this  country";  "Oh,  he  is  immense!"  "Did  you 
hear  Tony  Pastor  say  it's  the  intensest  acting  he's  ever 
seen,  —  that's  a  compliment,  from  what  you  may  call 
a  low  comedian  "  ;  "  Madame  Nilsson,  —  wasn't  she 
delighted?"  "Yes,  she  wouldn't  sing  to-night ;  would 
have  a  box  to  come  and  see  Irving."  Tlieae  were 
some  of  the  remarks  one  caught  as  the  audience  left  the 
theatre,  and  the  most  practical  criticism  is  often  heard 
as  one  leaves  a  theatre  among  the  crowd. 
'  Coming  upon  a  group  of  critics  and  others  I  learn 
that  the  critic  of  "The  Telegram"  says,  "Irving  is, 
indeed,  a  revelation ! "  while  Mr.  Oakey  Hall,  of 
"Truth,"  thanks  God  he  has  lived  to  see  such  an 
actor.  Several  members  of  the  Press  Club  join  in 
the  chorus  of  praise.  Buck  and  Fiske,  of  "  The  Spirit 
of  the  Times,"  smile  quietly,  as  much  as  to  say,  "  We 
told  you  so."  The  famous  critic  of  the  "Tribune" 
goes  out  saying,  "  Yes,  it  is  great ;  there  is  no  denying 
it."  Mr.  Wallack,  who,  too  ill  to  walk,  had  been 
carried  to  his  box,  expresses  his  hearty  admiration 
of  the  actor  whom  for  so  many  years  he  had  longed  to 
see ;    and   Mr.    Gilbert,^   the   veteran   comedian   and 


1 "  Twelve  Americans,"  a  graphic  series  of  biographical  sketches,  by 
Howard  Carroll,  devotes  some  interesting  pages  to  the  story  of  John 
Gilbert's  life  and  work.  For  upwards  of  fifty  years  an  actor,  ^  this  veteran 
of  the  American  stage  was  born  on  the  27th  of  Fcbruaiy,  1810,  at  Boston, 
in  a  house  "  adjoining  that  in  which  Miss  Cushraan,  the  greatest  of  Amer- 
ican actresses,  first  saw  the  light."  His  parents  were  in  a  good  position, 
and  while  -hey  were  not  bigots,  they  did  not  alto<;ether  hold  the  theatrical 


THE  DELLS, 


133 


stage-manager  at  Wallack'e,  is  "  impressed  beyond  ex- 
rression,  especially  with  the  business  of  counting  the 
dowry." 

There  is  a  rush  of  critics,  reporters,  correspondents, 
"down-town"  to  chronicle  the  niijlit's  success.  One  or 
two  writers,  whose  eccentricities  give  a  commercial 
value  to  their  work,  go  away  to  maintain  their  lively 
reputations ;  but,  on  the  whole,  it  is  evident  that 
evervbody,  press  men  and  public,  is  greatly  pleased. 


profession  as  a  hi<j;bly  reputable  one.  Young  Gilbert  waa  liead  of  bis  class 
in  declamation  at  tbo  Boston  Iligb  School.  Wben  be  left  scliool  be  was 
sent  into  a  commercial  bouse  witb  a  view  to  bis  becoming  a  diy-goods  mer- 
chant. He  disliked  business,  and  after  reciting  JafFer,  in  "  Venice  Pre- 
sci-ved,"  to  the  manager  of  the  Tremont  Theatre,  he  was  granted  an 
appearance.  After  opening  the  store  where  be  was  engaged  be  road  with 
delight  in  the  newspaper,  that  in  the  evening  "a  young  gentleman  of 
Boston"  would  make  bis  dchut  in  the  play  of  "Venice  rresei-ved."  Ho 
appeared  and  "did  well,"  in  spite  of  his  uncle  (who  was  bis  master), 
scowling  at  him  in  front.  "  O  John !  what  have  you  done  ? "  was  the 
broken-hearted  exclamation  of  his  mother  the  next  day.  John  had  not 
dared  to  go  to  the  store,  ami  felt  himself  quite  an  outcast.  He  was  for- 
given, however,  in  due  course,  and  made  a  second  appearance  as  Sir 
Edward  ^Mortimer,  in  "  The  Iron  Chest."  He  was  successful  beyond  bis 
expectations,  and  as  "  a  boy  actor  "  was  praised  as  a  phenomenon.  Later 
he  joined  the  stock  company,  and  was  reduced  to  "  speaking  utility " 
parts.  Though  disliking  the  drudgery  of  bis  place,  be  grew  up  witb  bis 
work,  and  witb  the  physical  capacity  for  leading  business  be  showed  that 
he  had  also  the  mental  strength  for  it.  lie  played  with  Macready  and 
Charlotte  Cusbman  at  the  Princess's  Theatre,  London.  \t  the  close  of 
his  engagement  there  be  attended  the  leading  English  theatres  to  study 
actors  and  their  methods.  Thence  be  went  to  Paris  to  complete  bis 
studies.  On  bis  return  to  America  be  filled  important  engagements 
for  some  years  at  the  old  Park  Theatre ;  then  he  went  for  a  time  to  Bos- 
ton, where  he  was  a  great  favorite ;  and  finally  be  joined  the  Wallacks, 
in  New  York,  where  he  has  familiarized  the  Empire  cily  with  the  best 
intei-pretations  of  Sir  Peter  Teazle,  old  Dornton,  old  Hardy,  Sir  Anthony 
Absolute,  ^[ajor  Oakley,  Master  Walter,  Ilardcastle,  Sir  ILircourt  Court- 
Icy,  Adams,  and  other  high-class  comedy  cbaractei-s  of  the  centuiy.  He 
is  slill  to  New  York  what  the  Elder  Farren  was  to  London. 


134 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


Many  American  journals  in  distant  States  were  repre- 
sented at  the  theatre  by  their  own  critics  and  by  cor- 
respondents. Long  telegraphic  despatches  were  wired 
to  the  leading  cities  of  the  Union  ;  the  Associated  Press 
sent  out  special  messages ;  the  London  journals  were 
in  evidence,  and  a  new  Anglo-French  paper  in  Paris 
had  commissioned  its  New  York  correspondent  to  cable 
some  thousand  or  more  words  of  Irving's  opening 
night.  Since  the  Forrest-Macready  riot  no  theatrical 
event  had  created  so  general  an  interest  as  the  first 
appearance  of  Irving  in  America. 


IV. 

Going  behind  the  scenes,  after  the  play,  I  found 
a  representative  of  the  "  Herald  "  already  ensconced  in 
Mr.  Irv.ing's  dressing-room..  He  was  pressing  the 
actor  for  his  views  of  the  audience,  and  for  some 
contrasts  of  his  sensations  under  the  influence  of 
this  audience  and  others  before  whom  he  had  played  in 
England.  At  first  Irving  seemed  inclined  to  say  no 
more  than  to  express  satisfaction  at  his  success. 
But  the  "  Herald "  representative  was .  a  quiet,  culti- 
vated, and  experienced  journalist.  Evidently  a  gen- 
tleman of  education,  a  travelled  man,  and  discreet,  he 
led  the  actor  into  the  conversational  direction  he  desired 
him  to  go,  and  the  result  was  a  pleasant  and  instruc- 
tive inters  iew :  — 

"  When  I  first  stepped  into  view  of  the  audience,  and 


THE  BELLS. 


135 


saw  and  heard  the  great  reception  it  gave  me,  I  was 
filled  with  emotion.  I  felt  that  it  was  a  great  epoch  in 
my  life.  The  moment  I  faced  the  people  I  felt  that  we 
were  friends.  I  knew  that  they  wished  to  like  me, 
and  would  go  away,  if  I  disappointed  them,  saying, 
'TVeil,  we  wanted  to  like  him ;  but  we  couldn't.'  Who 
could  stand  before  such  an  audience,  on  such  an  occa- 
sion, and  not  be  deeply  moved?  All  I  can  say  is,  that 
it  was  a  glorious  reception,  and  typical  of  your  great 
people." 

"But  as  to  the  merits  of  the  audience, — theatre- 
goers will  judge  your  acting,  —  what  is  your  opinion 
of  them?" 

"  The  audience  was  a  fine  one.  Apart  from  the 
marks  of  intelligence,  which  could  be  read  with  the 
naked  eye,  it  was  a  fine  assembly.  I  never  played 
before  a  more  responsive  or  sympathetic  audience.  It 
did  not  miss  a  point.  I  could  tell  all  through  the  play 
that  every  motion  I  made  was  being  closely  watched ; 
that  every  look,  gesture,  and  tone  was  carefully  ob- 
served. It  is  stimulating  to  an  actor  to  feel  that  he 
has  won  his  audience." 

"  You  felt  confident  that  you  had  made  an  impression 
upon  the  audience,  and  that  there  was  no  flattery  in 
the  applause?" 

"After  the  first  burst  of  welcome  was  over,  yes. 
I  had  not  been  on  the  stage  five  minutes  before  I 
knew  that  I  had  control  of  my  hearers,  and  that  I 
could  make  every  point  in  the  play  tell.  Then  the 
silence  of  the  people  —  the  greatest  compliment  that 
could  be  paid   to   one   in  such  a  play  —  was  always 


136 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


succeeded  by  genuine  applause  at  the  end  of  the 
act  I"       ■■  :■ 

"  Did  you  get  such  a  reception  when  you  appeared 
as  Mathias  first  before  a  London  audience  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no.  Don't  you  see,  I  was  comparatively  little 
known  then."  ^  « 

"  Mr.  Irving,  an  English  newspaper,  a  few  days  ago, 
expressed  a  hope  that  you  would  be  judged  by  your 
merits,  independent  of  anything  that  had  previously 
been  said  or  written  about  you,  and  that  Americans  in 
this  case  would  not  slavishly  echo  English  opinion^ 
Was  there  any  trace  of  independence  in  the  manner 
of  the  audience?"  -   ^^ 

"  Yes,  yes,  —  there  was,  certainly,"  said  the  actor, 
rising  and  pacing  the  room.  "  It  is  not  presumption  in 
me  to  say  that  I  am  sure  I  was  judged  solely  on  my  mer- 
its, and  that  the  audience  went  away  pleased  with  me. 
There  were  times  to-night  when  I  could  feel  the  sym- 
pathy of  my  hearers,  — actually  feel  it." 

"The  audience  was  quiet  in  the  first  act.  The  in- 
terest is  worked  up  to  the  climax  so  smoothly  and 
gradually  that  there  was  no  opportunity  for  applause 
until  the  end?" 

"There,  now,  you  have  found  one  of  the  differences 
between  the  judgment  of  my  audience  to-night  and 
those  I  have  played  to  in  London.  In  the  first  part 
of  the  play  the  English  audiences  laughed  a  great  deal ; 


*  This  statement  and  question  were  founded  upon  "  The  Standard's  "  mes- 
sage, previously  refciTed  to ;  but  which  Mr.  Irving  himself  neither  saw 


nor  heard  of  until  within  a  few  days  of  the  close  of  his  New  York  en- 
gagement. '""/'■■']    ''■''  '■  ■''"    '■' 


TEE  BELLS. 


137 


quite  boisterously,  in  fact,  at  some  of  the  comedy 
scenes.  But  the  absence  of  this  to-night,  I  think,  was 
due  to  the  fact  that  the  people  were  straining  to  get 
the  exact  run  of  the  play,  and  were  laboring  under 
anxiety  —  it  is  not  presumption  if  I  sj,y  so  —  to  see 
me. 

"  Was  there  any  other  feature  of  tliis  kind  that  you 
noticed?"  '-■■■> 

"  Yes ;  when  Christian  yields  to  my  demand  for  a 
promise  that  he  will  never  leave  the  village  while  I  am 
alive,  I  say,  '  It  was  necessary  I '  This  point  has  gen- 
erally provoked  laughter  in  England.  To-night  it 
evoked  earnest  applause.  On  the  other  hand,  for 
the  first  time  I  heard  the  audience  laugh  at  *  Now  the 
dowry  to  be  given  to  our  dear  son-in-law  in  order  that 
our  dear  son-in-law  may  love  us.'" 

"  Are  you  willing  to  be  judged  as  an  actor  by  to- 
night's performance,  Mr.  Irving?" 

"  For  that  character,  yes."  • 

"  Is  Mathias  not  your  greatest  role  ?  " 

"My  best?  Well,  now,  that's  hard  to  say.  There 
is  no  ground  for  comparison,  —  Charles  the  First  is 
so  different ;  he  is  full  of  qualities  that  are  foreign  to 
Mathias.  I  cannot  name  a  character  in  which  I  feel  I 
am  best.  They  afford  opportunities  for  the  display  of 
different  powers.  I  am  fond  of  the  part  of  Mathias, 
it  is  true." 

"  Did  your  company  play  up  to  the  standard  of  their 
work  in  the  Lyceum  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  have  not  seen  them  all ;  you  have  not 
seen  Miss  Terry  or  Mr.  Howe." 


138 


IMPRESSIONS   OF  AMERICA. 


"  But  did  those  of  the  company  who  were  in  the  cast 
to-night  do  as  well  as  usual?" 

"  They  were  rather  slower,  but  quite  good.  Of 
course  every  one  was  excited,  more  or  loss.  There 
is  only  one  strong  part  in  the  play,  and  that  is  mine. 
Mr.  Terriss  was  excellent.  Don't  you  think  he  is  a 
fine  fellow?" 

Suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  Irving  uncon- 
sciously dropped  into  a  military  attitude,  stretched 
his  hand  out  and  threw  back  his  head,  —  a  per- 
fect fac-simile  of  Mr.  Terriss'  impersonation  of  Chris- 
tian. 

"Is  the  scenery  the  same  that  was  used  in  the 
Lyceum  ?  " 

"  Exactly  the  same.  You  prompt  me  to  mention  a 
particular  point,  now.  Did  you  notice  how  little  the 
scenery  had  to  do  with  the  play?  I  have  it  so  on 
purpose.  Why,  there  is  practically  no  scenery.  I  try 
to  get  as  near  truth  as  possible,  as  Caleb  Plummer 
says.  I  have  sometimes  heard  that  I  rely  on  scenery. 
So  far  I  do  :  if  it  were  the  hovel  of  King  Lear  I 
would  have  a  hovel,  and  if  it  were  the  palace  of  Cleo- 
patra I  would  make  it  as  gorgeous  as  the  possibilities 
of  art  would  allow." 

"Do  you  look  upon  your  reception  to-night  as  a 
success  ?  " 

"  In  every  way.  One  of  your  greatest  actors  told 
me  that  American  audiences  are  proverbially  cold  on 
first  nights.  He  was  trying  to  save  me  from  a 
possible  disappointment.  In  addition  to  this,  *The 
Bells*  is   not  a  play  for   applause,   but   for  earnest, 


THE  BELLS. 


139 


sympathetic  silence.  Need  I  say  that  the  demonsti'a- 
tions,  which  burst  forth  on  every  occasion  that  good 
taste  would  allow,  are  the  best  evidences  that  to-night 
I  have  won  an  artistic  triumph?" 


140 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


vn. 


"RED   LETTER  DAYS.' 


Miss  EUea  TeiTy's  First  Appearance  in  New  York  —  The  Press  on  Charles 
and  the  Queen  —  A  Professional  Matinee  —  An  Audience  of  Actors  to 
Sec  Louis  XI. — How  they  Impressed  the  Actor,  and  what  they  Thought 
of  Him  —  A  Visit  to  Ilemy  Ward  Beccher  —  At  Church  and  at  Home 
—  Mrs.  Beccher  and  Miss  Terry — Beminiscences  —  Studies  of  Death, 
Physiological  and  Idealistic  —  Louis'  Death  and  Hamlet's  —  A  Strange 
Stoiy. 

I. 

New  York  received  Miss  Terry,  on  her  first  appear- 
ance before  an  American  audience,  as  cordially  as  it  had 
welcomed  Irving.  It  was  as  Henrietta  Maria  that  she 
spoke  her  first  words  on  the  stage  of  the  New  World. ^ 

1  In  "  Charles  the  First  "  Irving  confirmed  the  good  impression  he  had 
made.  Miss  Terry  received  a  most  cordial  reception,  and  made  so  excel- 
lent an  impression  upon  the  audience,  both  by  her  charming  personality 
and  admirable  acting,  that  long  before  the  evening  was  over  she  had  firmly 
established  herself  in  the  good  graces  of  her  new  public,  who  more  than 
once,  at  the  full  of  the  curtain,  invited  her,  with  cveiy  enthusiastic  mark 
of  approbation,  to  come  before  the  house  to  receive  in  person  its  acknowl- 
edgments and  congratulations.  Her  success  was  unquestionable.  In  the 
second  act  the  curtain  fell  on  the  conclusion  of  one  of  the  grandest  results 
that  any  actor  has  achieved  in  New  York  for  years.  A  continued  succes- 
sion of  plaudits  came  from  all  parts  of  the  house.  The  performance  was 
profoundly  conceived,  acted  out  with  infinite  care,  elaborated  with  rare 
skill,  and  invested  with  naturalness  that  deserved  all  praise.  Irving,  in  his 
finale,  merited  fully  every  word  that  has  been  written  of  his  power,  in- 
tensity, and  dramatic  excellence;  and  he  was  enthusiastically  called 
before  the  curtain,  in  oi'dcr  that  the  audience  might  assure  him  of  that 
verdict.  Miss  Terry  made  the  impi-ession  of  a  charming  actress.  There 
was  something  veiy  captivating  in  the  sweetness  of  her  manner,  the  grace 
of  her  movements,  and  tlic  musical  quality  of  her  tones.  In  acting,  her 
points  were  made  with  remarkable  ease  and  natumlncss.    There  was  an 


''RED  LETTER  DAYS:' 


141 


in- 
lllcd 
that 

[•ace 
Ihcr 
an 


that  belongs  to  the  liighest  form  of  theatrical  art. 
the  leading  critics  recognized  this. 


There  is  no  more  tenderly  poetic  play  in  the  repertoire 
of  the  modern  drama  than  "Charles  the  First."  The 
story  in  Irving's  hands  is  told  with  a  truthful  simplicity 

All 
The  effect  of  the 
well-known  Hampton  Court  cloth  was  so  perfect  in  its 
way  and  so  new  to  some  of  them,  that  it  was  regarded  as 
a  cut  cloth ,  with  "  raking  "  and  water  pieces.  The  "  Trib- 
une" interpreted  the  general  opinion  of  the  audience, 
when  it  said,  "  what  most  impressed  them  was  Irving's 
extraordinary  physical  fitness  to  the  accepted  ideal  of 
Charles  Stuart,  combined  with  the  passionate  earnest- 
ness and  personal  magnetism  that  enable  him  to  create 
and  sustain  a  perfect  illusion  "  ;  while  it  may  be  said  to 
have  just  as  happily  expressed  the  views  of  another 
class  in  the  words,  "  To  the  student  Mr.  Irving's 
Charles  is  especially  significant,  as  indicative  of  the 
actor's  method  in  applying  wliat  is  termed  '  natural ' 
treatment  to  the  poetic  drama." 

"Louis  XI.,"  "The  Merchant  of  Venice,"  "The 
Lyons  Mail,"  and  "  The  Belle's  Stratagem,"  were  the 
other  pieces  produced  during  the  four  weeks  in  New 
York.  The  theatre  was  crowded  nightly,  and  on  the 
Saturday  matinees.  The  speculators  found  it  easier  to 
dispose  of  their  tickets,  as  the  weeks  wore  on,  even 
than  during  the  first  five  or  4x  days  of  the  e  gagement. 
Nothing  damped  the  public  ardor.     The  opera  war  be- 

cntirc  absence  of  tlieatrical  effect,  there  was  a  simplicity  of  style  in  eveiy- 
thing  she  did,  a  directness  of  method  and  sincerity  of  feelinj;  that,  as  wo 
have  said,  was  the  simplicity  of  true  aii,  and  yet  not  the  exaggeration  of 
tiie  simplicity  of  nature.  —  New  York  Herald.         ■     ,.   ..      ,    ,.,    «,>;■- 


142 


IMPItEaSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


tween  Mapleson  and  Abbey,  as  representatives  of  two 
great  parties  of  wealthy  art  patrons,  had  no  apparent 
influence  on  the  receipts  at  the  Star  Theatre.  One  of 
the  greatest  nights  of  the  month  marked  the  first  ap- 
pearance of  Patti  at  the  Academy  of  Music.  Inclement 
weather,  abnormal  charges  for  scats,  strong  counter- 
attractions  at  the  other  houses,  including  the  two  grand 
Italian  Opera  Companies,  might  have  been  expected  to 
discount  the  financial  success  of  any  rival  entertainment. 
They  made  no  difference  to  Irving.  lie  was  the  talk,  not 
of  New  York,  bn  ^  America  ;  and  after  her  appearance 
as  Portia,  Miss  .  i  i'crry  was  almost  as  much  written 
about  as  he  himseli.  Unrivalled  in  the  higher  walks 
of  comedy,  at  home  or  abroad,  IMiss  Terry  is  as  new 
to  the  American  public  in  the  naturalness  of  her 
methods,  as  Irving  himself. 

Shylock  excited  controversy,  Louis  inspired  admira- 
tion, Dubosc  and  his  virtuous  double  commanded  re- 
spect, and  the  method  of  presenting  the  plays  was  a 
theme  of  praise  and  delight  in  and  out  of  the  press. 
Of  Louis  the  "  Sun  "  said  "  Mr.  Irving  won  his  audi- 
ence to  him  almost  at  once.  It  was  impossible  to  with- 
stand the  intensity,  the  vivid  picturesqucness,  and  im- 
posing reality  of  his  portrayal,  and  after  each  great 
scene  of  the  play  he  was  called  again  and  again  before 
the  curtain  by  hearty  and  most  demonstrative  applause. 
It  was  a  wonderful  performance,  and  the  impression 
that  it  left  is  one  that  can  never  be  laid  aside."  The 
"Times"  was  struck  with  his  appearance.  "His  make- 
up is  as  perfect  in  its  kind  as  that  of  Charles  the  First, 
and  nobody  would  imagine  the  actor  to  be  the  same 


*'RED  LETTER  DAYS:' 


143 


as  the  actor  in  either  of  the  other  parts  which  he  has 
presented.  But  the  verisimilitude  here  goes  much 
deeper  than  the  make-up.  There  is  the  senile  garrulity 
and  the  senile  impatience  of  garrulity,  the  senile  chuckle 
over  successful  strokes  of  business.  And  this  charac- 
ter is  deepened  as  the  play  advances.  The  occasional 
expressions  of  energy  are  spasmodic  ;  and  after  each  the 
patient  relapses  into  a  still  more  listless  apathy,  and 
this  decay  is  progressive  until  the  death-scene,  which  is 
the  strongest  and  most  impressive  piece  of  realism  that 
Mr.  Irving  has  yet  given  us."  The  "  Herald "  com- 
mended Shylock  to  the  Shakespearian  student,  "  as 
the  best  exposition  of  the  character  that  can  be  seen  on 
the  stage" ;  while  the  "  Tribune  "  said  of  Miss  Terry, 
"Her  simple  manner,  always  large  and  adequate,  with 
nothing  puny  or  mincing  about  it,  id  one  of  the 
greatest  beauties  of  the  art  which  it  so  deftly  conceals. 
Her  embodiment  of  a  woman's  loveliness,  such  as  in 
Portia  should  be  at  once  stately  and  fascinating,  and 
inspire  at  once  respect  and  passion,  was  felicitous  be- 
yond the  reach  of  descriptive  phrases.  Her  delivery 
of  the  Mercy  speech  was  one  of  the  few  perfectly  modu- 
lated and  entirely  beautiful  pieces  of  eloquence  that 
will  dwell  forever  in  memory.  Her  sweet  and  spark- 
ling by-play  in  the  '  business '  about  the  ring  and  in 
her  exit  can  only  be  called  exquisite.  Better  comedy 
has  not  in  our  time  been  seen."^ 


^Miss  Terry  was  born  at  Coventry,  Feb.  27,  1848.  Her  parents  were 
members  of  the  theatrical  profession.  Her  first  appearances  on  the  stage 
were  in  "The  Winter's  Tale "  and  "King  John"  (Mamillius  and  Arthur), 
during  the  Shakespearian  revivals  of  Charles  Keaa,  in  1858.    As  Piince 


144 


IMPIiESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


II. 


At  the  written  request  of  the  leading  actors  and 
theatrical  companies  of  Now  York,  Irving  gave  a  "  pro- 
fessional matinee  "  at  the  Star  Theatre.  The  play  was 
"Louis  XI."     It  was  the  first  time  Irving  had  appeared 


Arthur  she  bad  repeated  the  success  of  her  eldest  sister  Kate,  who  had 
made  her  first  appearance  in  the  part  six  years  previously.  Mr.  Irving, 
during  his  conversations  and  speeches  in  this  book  of  "  Impressions,"  has 
rcfciTcd  to  the  stock  companies  which,  at  one  time,  were  the  provincial 
schools  which  supplied  London  with  its  principal  actors.  When  Ellen 
Terry  was  a  girl,  the  late  Mr.  Chute  presided  over  the  fortunes  of  two  of 
the  best  ctock  companies  in  the  country.  He  was  the  lessee  of  the  Bristol 
and  Bath  theatres,  and  he  played  bis  Bristol  company  at  Bath  once  or 
twice  a  week.  Some  twenty  years  ago,  I  remember  a  stock  company  at 
the  Bristol  theatre,  which  included  Marie  Wilton,  Miss  Cleveland  (Mrs. 
Arthur  Sterling)  Miss  Mandelbcrt,  Madge  Robertson  (Mrs.  Kendall),  and 
her  mother,  Arthur  Sterling,  George  Rignold,  William  Rignold,  Arthur 
Wood,  Fosbroke,  and  the  fathers,  respective!}',  of  Marie  Wilton  and  Madge 
Robertson.  At  that  time  Kate  Tcn-y  and  Ellen  Terry  had  left  for  London, 
Ellen  having  joined  the  Bristol  company  at  the  close  of  Charles  Kean's 
management  of  the  Princess's.  She  played  Cupid  to  her  sister  Kate's  Diana 
in  Brough's  extravaganza  of  "  Endymion"  at  Bristol,  in  18G2.  She  made 
her  dchut  in  London,  March,  1863,  as  Gertrude,  in  the  "  Little  Treasure." 
The  critics  of  the  time  recognized  in  her  art  "  an  absence  of  convention- 
ality and  affectation,"  and  they  look  back  now  to  trace  in  her  interpretations 
of  "  the  buoyant  spirits,  kindly  heart,  and  impulsive  emotions  "  of  Gertrude 
for  the  undoubted  forecast  of  her  present  success,  more  particularly  in  those 
characters  which  give  full  pi  ^  to  the  natural  sympathetic  and  womanly  spiint 
of  her  art.  From  March,  ^863,  till  January,  1864,  she  played  Hero,  in 
"  Much  Ado  About  Nothing,"  Mary  Meredith,  in  "  The  American  Cousin," 
and  other  secondaiy  parts.  She  married  and  left  the  stage  while  still  a 
mere  child,  and  was  not  yet  twenty  when  she  made  her  reappearance  at  the 
end  of  October,  1867,  in  "The  Double  Marriage,"  adapted  from  the  French 
by  Charles  Reade  for  the  New  Queen's  Theatre,  London.  She  also  played 
Mrs.  Mildmay,  in  "  Still  Waters,"  and  Katharine  in  the  ordinaiy  stage  ver- 
sion of  the  "  Taming  of  the  Shrew,"  known  as  "  Katharine  and  Petruchio." 
It  was  in  this  comedy,  on  the  26th  of  December,  1867,  that  she  and  Mr. 
liTing  first  acted  together.  She  left  the  theatre  in  January,  1868,  and  did 
not  reappear  on  the  London  stage  until  1874,  when  she  succeeded  Mrs. 


'*RED  LETTER  DAYS:' 


145 


before  an  audience  of  actors  in  any  country.  The 
house  was  packed  from  floor  to  ceiling.  It  was  a  sin- 
gularly interesting  and  interested  audience.     No  actor, 


John  Wood  in  the  part  of  Phillippa  Chester,  in  Charles  Ileade's  "  Wander- 
in<;  Heir,"  which  was  produced  under  tho  author's  management  at  the 
Queen's  Theatre.  She  afterwards  joined  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bancroft's  com- 
pany at  the  Prince  of  Wales's,  and  was  the  Poi'tia  to  Mr.  Coug^hlan's  Shylock, 
in  the  amhitious  production  of  "  The  Merchant  of  Venice,"  which  was  to 
be  a  new  departure  in  the  history  of  the  famous  little  house  near  Totten- 
ham Court  Iload.  Shakespeare  did  not  prosper,  however,  at  the  Prince  of 
Wales's,  though  his  great  comedy  was  daintily  mounted,  and  Miss  Tony's 
Portia  was  as  sweet  and  gracious  as  the  art  of  the  actress  could  make  that 
sweet  and  gracious  heroine.  From  the  Bancrofts,  Miss  Terry  went  to  their 
rivals  (Mr.  Ilare  and  the  Kendalls),  at  the  Court  Theatre.  The  sterling 
natural  qualities  which  some  critics  noted  in  her  method  when  a  child, 
were  abtmdantly  apparent  in  her  Olivia,  a  fresh,  graceful,  touching  per- 
fonnance,  of  which  '*  Puncli"  said,  January  11,  1879,  "  If  anything  more 
intellectually  conceived  or  more  exquisitely  wrought  out  than  Miss  Terry's 
Ophelia  has  been  seen  on  the  English  stage  in  this  generation,  it  has  not  been 
within '  Punch's '  memory."  She  closed  her  engagement  at  the  Coui't  Thea- 
tre on  the  offer  of  Mr.  Irving  to  take  the  position  of  leading  lady  at  the  Ly- 
ceum Theatre,  where  she  made  her  first  appearance,  December  30,  1878, 
and  since  which  time  she  has  shared  with  him  the  honors  of  a  series  of  such 
successes  as  are  unparalleled  in  the  history  of  the  stage.  They  include  the 
longest  runs  ever  known  of"  Hamlet,"  "  The  Merchant  of  Venice,"  "Romeo 
and  .Tulict,"  and  "  Much  Ado  About  Nothing."  This  is  not  the  place  to  do 
more  than  give  these  brief,  biographic  notes  of  a  brilliant  career.  But  one 
is  tempted  to  quote  a  singularly  happy  sketch  of  Miss  Ellen  Teny  which  ap- 
peared on  the  eve  of  her  departure  for  America  in  the  "  St.  Stephen's  Re- 
view," July,  1883  :  "  It  is  well  for  the  stage  that  it  possesses  such  a  gift  as 
Ellen  Terry.  The  age  is,  on  the  whole,  tcrribl}'  unroraantic  and  common- 
place ;  it  deals  in  realism  of  a  very  uncompromising  form ;  it  calls  a  spade  a 
spade,  and  considei-s  sentiment  an  unpardonable  affectation.  But  Ellen 
Teny  is  the  one  anachronism  that  the  age  forgives ;  she  is  the  one  living 
instance  of  an  ideal  being  that  the  purists  pardon.  As  she  stands  before 
these  cold  critics  in  her  classical  robes  as  Camnia ;  as  she  drags  at  their 
heartstrings  as  tho  forlorn  and  abandoned  Olivia;  as  she  trips  upon  the 
stage  as  Beatrice ;  as  she  appears  in  a  wondrous  robe  of  shot -red  and  gold, 
or  clothed  '  in  white  samite,  mystic,  wonderful,'  as  Ophelia,  or,  as  she  falls 
a-weeping  as  the  heart-broken  queen  on  the  breast  of  Charles  the  First, 
even  these  well-balanced  natu  ,)ronounce  her  inexplicable  but  chaiining. 
She  is  the  one  actress  who  canu.^ t  be  criticised ;  for  is  she  not  Ellen  Terry  ? " 


14G 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


proud  of  his  profession,  could  have  looked  at  it  with- 
out a  thrill  of  pleasure.  Well-dressed,  beaming  with 
intelligence  and  intellectuality,  it  was  on  cjood  terms 
with  itself,  and  it  settled  down,  in  stalls,  boxes,  and 
dress-circle,  with  an  air  of  pleasant  expectation  that 
was  refreshing  to  contemplate.^ 

Nothing  could  be  more  satisfactory  to  Mr.  Irving 
and  to  his  friends,  after  the  demonstrative  applause 
of  this  very  remarkable  audience,  than  the  "Inter- 
views "  of  many  of  the  best-known  actors  and  actresses 
which  appeared  in  the  "  Herald  "  on  the  following  morn- 
ing.    Irving  had  no  idea  that  such  a  tribute  was  to 


1  All  that  has  been  said  in  recognition  of  Mr.  Irving'a  intellectual  leader- 
ship, and  oi  liifl  puissant  genius  and  beautiful  and  thorough  method  of 
dramatic  art,  was  more  than  justified  by  his  impersonation  of  Louis  XI., 
given,  yesterday  afternoon,  before  an  audience  mainly  composed  of  actors, 
at  the  Star  Theatre,  lie  has  not,  since  the  remarkable  occasion  of  his  fii-st 
advent  in  America,  acted  with  such  a  noble  affluence  of  power  as  he  dis- 
played ia  this  splendid  and  wonderful  effort.  It  was  not  only  an  expression, 
most  vivid  and  profound,  of  the  intricate,  grisly,  and  terrible  nature  of 
King  Louis ;  it  was  a  disclosure  of  the  manifold  artistic  resources,  the  fine 
intuition,  the  repose,  and  the  commanding  intellectual  energy  of  the  actor 
himself.  An  intellectual  audience  —  eager,  alert,  responsive,  quick  to  see 
the  intention  almost  before  it  was  suggested,  and  to  recognize  each  and 
every  point,  however  subtle  and  delicate,  of  the  actor's  art —  seemcil  to 
awaken  all  his  latent  fire,  and  nerve  him  to  a  free  and  bounteous  utterance 
of  his  own  spirit;  and  eveiy  sensitive  mind  in  that  numerous  and  brilliant 
throng  most  assuredly  felt  the  presence  of  a  royal  nature,  and  a  great  artist 
in  acting.  Upon  Mr.  Irving's  first  entrance  the  applause  of  welcome  was 
prodigious,  audit  was  long  before  it  died  away.  More  than  one  scene  was 
interrupted  by  the  uncontrollable  enthusiasm  of  the  house,  and  eight  times 
in  the  course  of  the  performance  Mr.  Irving  was  called  back  upon  the 
scene.  A  kindred  enthusiasm  was  communicated  to  the  other  actors,  and 
an  unusual  spirit  of  emulation  pei-vaded  the  entire  company  and  representa- 
tion  At  the  close  there  was  a  tumult  of  applause,  and  the 

expectation  seemed  eager  and  general  that  Mr.  'Irving  would  personally 
address  the  assembly.  He  retired,  however,  with  a  bow  of  farewell. 
"Louis  XI."  will  be  repeated  to-night.  —  The  Tribune,  November  21. 


**RED  LETTER  DAYS.'' 


147 


be  paid  to  him  when,  in  talking  with  some  gentlemen 
of  the  press,  at  the  close  of  the  play,  ho  said :  — 

"  I  never  played  before  such  an  audience,  so  spon- 
taneous in  its  appreciation  and  applause,  and  it  will 
remain  with  me  as  one  of  the  most  interesting  and 
most  memorable  events  in  my  dramatic  career.  It  is 
very  commonly  said  that  actors  are  the  worst  judges 
of  acting.  But  I  would  ask  why  should  actors  be 
worse  judges  of  their  art  than  painters  of  paintings  or 
musicians  of  music  ?  " 

"Your  audience  was  very  enthusiastic,  was  it  not?" 
"It  could  not  well  have  been  more  so.  You  see 
actors  know  well  from  experience  that  an  actor,  to  be 
stimulated,  needs  applause,  and  plenty  of  it.  Applause 
is  as  necessary  to  an  actor  as  to  an  orator.  The 
greater  the  applause  the  more  enthusiasm  the  actor 
puts  into  his  work.  Therefore  those  who  applaud  most 
get  most,  and  consequently  my  audience  of  this  after- 
noon " — 

"  Got  the  most  out  of  your  performance  ?  " 
"  Well,  they  certainly  excited  me  to  feel  the  effect 
of  their  appreciation  on  my  own  work.  I  felt  an 
elation  for  them,  and  an  elation  such  as  I  have  rarelv 
experienced.  I  happened  to  walk  into  Mr.  Millais' 
studio,  before  leaving  England.  He  had  just  finished  a 
painting  in  which  I  was  interested,  —  in  fact,  it  was  a 
portrait  of  myself.  I  found  him  in  an  extraordinarily 
cheerful  mood.  lie  clapped  his  hands  with  delight, 
as  he  said,  pointing  to  the  portrait,  'Watts  has  just 
been  here,  and  says  it  is  the  best  thing  I  have  ever 
done.'     Millais  was  especially  pleased,  for  this  compli- 


w 


148 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


ment  came  from  a  brother  artist.  I  dare  say  you  will 
see  the  parallel  in  this  my  especial  pleasure  in  receiving 
the  plaudits  of  my  brother  artists." 

"  And  how  did  the  audience  differ  from  the  audiences 
you  have  been  playing  to  here  ?  " 

"This  is  the  distinction,  I  think,  —  actors  applaud 
all  the  touches  as  you  put  tliem  on  ;  a  general  audience 
applaud  the  whole  effect  when  made.  And  so  it  was 
that  all  the  little  asides  and  touches  of  by-play  this 
afternoon  were  taken  with  as  keen  an  appreciation  of 
them  as  of  the  whole  effect  of  any  scene  or  situation. 
I  felt  that  my  audience  thoroughly  knew  what  they 
were  applauding  for.  I  felt  that  they  applauded 
myself  and  our  company  because  they  were  really 
pleased  ;  and  I  will  say  again  that  my  first  professional 
matinee  has  proved  to  be  one  of  the  pleasantest  events 
of  my  life." 

"It  was  a  great  performance,"  said  Mr.  Edward  Gil- 
more,  one  of  the  managers  of  Niblo's  Garden. 

"I  have  seen  a  good  deal  of  acting,"  said  Mrs.  Agnes 
Booth  ;  "  but  I  can  honestly  say  I  have  never  seen  any- 
thing that  pleased  me  more  :  it  was  simply  perfect." 

"I  have  seen  most  of  the  performances  in  Europe  of 
recent  times,"  said  Mme.  Cottrelly,  who  had  been  a 
leading  German  actress  and  manager  before  appearing 
on  the  Casino  stage  ;  "  but  I  have  never  seen  anything 
that  equalled  Mr.  Irving's  performance  this  afternoon. 
I  have  never  seen  anything  in  the  theatrical  line  that 
has  been  mounted  more  correctly.  It  has  not  been 
surpassed  in  the  finest  German  court  theatres  that  I 
have  attended." 


''RED  LETTER  DAYS:' 


149 


"  I  think  it  is  altogether  one  of  the  greatest  perform- 
ances the  American  public  and  profession  have  ever 
seen,"  said  Mr.  Dan  Harkins.  "The  wonderful  perfec- 
tion of  detail  and  subtlety  of  by-play  is,  1  think,  gr(?ater 
than  I  have  seen  in  any  other  performance,  excepting, 
perhaps,  Mr.  Forrest's  'King  Lear.'  Mr.  Irving  also 
is  in  a  constant  state  of  activity ;  when  he  is  not  talk- 
ing he  is  acting.  He  is  making  some  clever  point  all 
the  time.  The  whole  performance  is  great.  It  is 
great  in  the  leading  character,  great  in  all  that  is  sub- 
ordinate to  it,  which,  by  an  excellent  stage  manage- 
ment and  a  fine  company,  are  brought  into  unusual 
prominence." 

Mr.  McCauU  remarked:  "It's  a  long  way  the  fin- 
est piece  of  character-acting  I  have  ever  seen.  Of 
course,  I'm  a  young  man,  and  haven't  sricn  much ;  but 
I've  seen  Mr.  Irving  twice  in  this  part,  and  when  I  go 
to  see  a  performance  —  out  of  my  own  theatre  — 
twice,  I  can  tell  you  that,  in  my  opinion,  it  must  be  a 
very  fine  one." 

"I  am  very  familiar  with  'Louis  XI.,'"  said  Mr. 
Harry  Edwards,^  "  as  I  have  played  in  it  myself  a  great 

*  Ilcnry  Edwards  was  born  at  Ross,  Herefordshire,  England,  Aug'ust, 
1831.  lie  finished  his  education  under  the  Rev.  Abraham  Lander,  son  of 
the  friend  of  Robert  Burns,  and  studied  for  the  law  in  his  father's  office. 
In  1848  he  became  a  member  of  the  Western  Dramatic  Amateur  Society. 
In  1853  he  emigrated  to  Australia,  passed  three  years  in  tho  bush,  and 
went  on  the  stage  professionally,  at  the  Queen's  Theatre,  Melbourne, 
under  the  management  of  Charles  Young,  then  the  husband  of  Mrs.  Her- 
man Vezin,  who  was  the  leading  lady.  After  supporting  the  late  Gustavus 
V.  Brooke,  he  went,  as  leading  man,  to  Tasmania,  under  tho  management 
of  Charles  Poole.  Ho  again  joined  Brooke,  and  for  six  or  seven  years  was 
his  second,  playing  lago,  Macduff,  De  Maupry,  Icilius,  etc.,  becoming 
manager  of  Theatre  Royal,  Melbourne,  for  G.  V.  Brooke,  in  1861.    He 


150 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


deal.  I  appeared  as  Nemours  with  Mr.  Gustavus  V. 
Brooke,  and  his  performance  of  Louis  XI.  was  a 
very  fine  one.  I  then  travelled  for  a  year  with  Charles 
Kean,  and  played  Courtier,  the  Physician,  in  *  Louis 
XI.,'  and  once  appeared  with  Kean  as  Courtier.  I 
also  played  Nemours  with  Charles  Couldock.  Well, 
I  say  all  this  to  show  you  that  I  am  pretty  familiar 
with  the  play,  and  with  great  actors  who  have  played 
'Louis  XI.*  Mr.  Irvinjj's  Louis  is  one  of  the  jjreat- 
est  performances  I  have  ever  seen  as  a  whole,  and  far 
superior  to  that  of  any  of  his  predecessors.  He  brings 
depth,  more  intensity,  and  more  variety,  to  the  char- 
acter than  any  of  them.     His  facial  action  is  something 


afterwards  travelled  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Charles  Kean,  playing  Falr-n- 
bridge,  Henry  VIII.,  Coitier,  etc.  In  1865  he  went  to  New  Zealand,  and 
managed  theatres  in  Auckland  and  Hokitiki.  He  left  the  colonies  early 
in  1866,  passed  four  months  in  Lima,  giving,  in  all,  thirty-three  perform- 
ances in  the  Peruvian  capital,  aided  by  a  small  company.  lie  also  gave 
entertainments  in  Panama.  Arrived  in  San  Francisco,  October,  1866, 
under  an  engagement  to  Thomas  Maguire,  opened  in  that  city  as  Othello 
to  the  lago  of  John  McCuUough,  and  afterwards  played  Pythias,  Sir 
Anthony  Absolute,  Sir  Peter  Teazle,  Marc  Anthony,  and  Sir  John  Fal- 
staff.  At  the  opening  of  the  California  Theatre  he  joined  BaiTCtt  and 
McCullough's  company,  and  remained  to  the  close  of  the  latter's  manage- 
ment. He  went  to  New  York  in  1879,  and  opened  at  "Wallack's  Theatre 
fnowthe  Star),  in  Byron's  comedy  of  "  Our  Girls,"  and  has  been  ever  since 
H  member  of  Wallack's  company,  of  which  he  is  now  Stage  Director.  He 
is  an  earnest  entomologist,  and  has  one  of  the  largest  private  collections 
of  insects  in  the  world,  numbering  over  260,000  specimens.  Has  written 
much  on  his  favorite  study,  as  well  as  many  magazine  and  other  articles ; 
is  the  author  of  "  Pacific  Coast  Lepidoptcra,"  and  a  volume  of  sketches 
called  "  A  Mingled  Yarn";  is  engaged  to  write  the  article  on  "Butter- 
flies," for  Kingsley's  Standard  Natural  History,  in  association  with  Asa 
Gray,  Pi-of.  Baird,  Prof.  Packard,  A.  Agassiz,  and  other  distinguished 
naturalists ;  and  was  five  years  President  of  the  Bohemian  Club,  San  Fran- 
cisco, three  yeara  Vice-President  of  the  California  Academy  of  Sciences, 
and  cue  year  Preaident  of  the  Lambs  Club,  New  York. 


RED  LETTER  DAYS:' 


151 


wonderful.  His  performance  stands  on  the  highest 
plane  of  dramatic  excellence,  and  on  the  same  plane  as 
Macready's  famous  Werner.  I  may  say  that  I  am 
not  an  admirer  of  Mr.  Irving  in  all  parts,  but  his  Louis 
is  unapproachable.  I  never  enjoyed  a  performance  so 
much  in  my  life,  and  I  felt  that  I  could  sit  it  out  for 
a  week  if  I  were  given  the  opportunity." 

"  He  is  the  greatest  actor  who  speaks  the  English 
language,"  said  Mr.  Lev/is  Morrison.  "I  claim  to 
know  what  good  acting  is.  I  have  supported  Salvini, 
whom  I  regard  as  the  greatest  artist  on  the  foreign 
stage,  and  my  preceptor  was  Edwin  Booth.  But  even 
in  Mr.  Booth's  presence  I  must  say  that  I  have  been 
moved  to-day  as  I  never  was  before.  I  am  not  given 
to  gushing  over  an  actor ;  but  I  never  before  saw  a 
man's  soul,  as  I  did  in  King  Louis  this  afternoon.  It 
was  simply  perfection.  It  was  not  the  actor ;  it  was 
Louis  XL  that  I  saw.  I  must  admit  that  I  went  to 
the  theatre  with  a  little  prejudice  against  Mr.  Irving. 
I  had  never  seen  him,  and,  from  certain  things  which 
other  actors  had  told  me,  I  was  prepared  to  find  an 
overrated  man.  But  what  a  performance  it  w^as  I  It 
was  wonderful !  —  wonderful  I  " 

Mr.  W.  A.  McConnell,  manager  of  Haverly's  Brook- 
lyn Theatre,  said  :  "  He  is  a  great  actor.  I  have  never 
before  seen  such  conscientious  attention  to  detail,  such 
hiirmony  in  everything,  from  the  people  on  the  stage 
with  him,  down  to  the  suiallest  thing.  It  is  a  lesson 
for  us  all." 

"  As  a  manager,"  said  Mr.  Palmer,  of  the  Union 
Square  Theatre,  "  it  was  a  revelation  to  me  to  see  such 


152 


IMPRESS.  '^NS   OF  AMERICA. 


I 


conscientious  attention  to  detail.  Every  little  thing  in 
which  good  stage  management  could  have  been  exhib- 
ited was  shown  by  Mr.  Irving's  company.  They 
worked  as  one  man.  I  have  heard  but  one  opinion 
among  members  of  our  company,  —  everybody  was  de- 
lighted." 

"What  can  I  say  that  is  strong  enough?"  exclaimed 
Miss  Gary,  of  the  Union  Square  Theatre  Company. 
"  I  was  delighted  beyond  measure.  What  a  wonderful 
teacher  Irving  must  be,  and  what  a  master  of  his  art  in 
every  way  !  What  impressed  me  particularly  was  the 
perfect  harmony  of  the  entire  performance.  How  care- 
fully and  patiently  everybody  must  have  been  drilled, 
and  every  detail  which  would  add  to  the  effect  looked 
after ! " 

Mr.  Osmond  Tearle  said :  "  I  had  seen  Mr.  Irving 
in  everything  except  'Louis  XI.'  before  to-day's  mat- 
inee ^  and  I  have  always  admired  him  greatly  as  an 
actor.  Now  I  have  seen  him  as  Louis  XI.  I  admire 
him  still  more.  It  is  the  greatest  thing  I  have  ever 
seen  him  do.  His  business,  as  he  warmed  himself  at 
the  fire,  was  remarkable.  When  he  came  on  in  the 
last  act,  he  looked  like  one  of  the  fine  old  royal  figures 
that  stand  outside  Yorkminster  in  England  ;  and  when 
he  took  his  crown  off  he  looked  like  the  picture  of 
Father  Time.  His  facial  expression  is  astonishing, 
and  in  the  wonderful  death-scene  his  eyes  seem  to  have 
gone  altogether.  The  whole  performance  was  fine ; 
there  was  not  a  bad  part  in  it." 

"  I  have  only  one  word  to  say  on  this  subject,"  said 
Mr.  John  Gilbert,  "  and  that  is,  that  it  is  wonderful ; 


''RED  LETTER  DAYS:' 


153 


perhaps  I,  however,  may  supplement  that  by  saying 
that  it  is  'extraordinary.'  I  have  seen  Mr.  Irving 
play  'Louis  XI.'  before  to-day,  and,  in  fact,  I  have 
attended  nearly  all  his  performances  at  the  Star  Thea- 
tre ;  but  this  afternoon  he  exceeded  anything  that  he 
has  done  here  before.  lie  was  clearly  moved,  in  no 
slight  degree,  by  the  almost  incessant  applause  of  his 
professional  brethren.  I  don't  know  that  I  remember 
having  seen  a  greater  performance  by  any  actor,  not 
even  excepting  Macrcady's  Werner.  I  am  not  aston- 
ished at  Mr.  Irving's  great  popularity  in  England.  I 
am  sure  he  deserves  it." 

"I  had  never  seen  Mr.  Irving  before  this  afternoon," 
said  Mr.  James  Lewis,  "  and  I  was  certainly  not  dis- 
appointed, although  I  had  formed  the  highest  expecta- 
tions of  him  as  an  actor.  There  was  a  young  actor, 
about  nineteen  years  old,  that  sat  by  me,  and  he  got 
on  his  scat  and  yelled  'Bravo!'  Now,  I  didn't  do 
that ;  but  I  was  just  as  much  pleased  and  excited  as 
the  youngster.  I  think  it  was  the  greatest  perform- 
ance I  ever  saw.  You  have,  perhaps,  heard  the  popu- 
lar gag,  "That  man  tires  me.'  Well,  that  man,  Mr. 
Irving,  tired  me  ;  but  it  was  because  he  so  wrought 
upon  my  feelings  that  when  t\\Q  play  was  over  I  felt  so 
exhausted  I  could  hardly  leave  my  seat.  The  stage 
setting  and  management  were  good,  but  I  have  seen 
as  good  in  this  city  before." 

Mrs.  G.  11.  Gilbert,  of  Daly's  theatre,  thought  that 
it  was  the  finest  performance  within  her  experience. 
"In  the  confession  scene,"  she  said,'  'I  thought  him 
especially  remarkable.     I  had  seen  him  in  '  The  Lyons 


154 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


m 


Mail '  in  London,  and,  now  that  I  have  seen  his  *  Louis 
XI.,' I  want  to  see  him  in  all  his  characters.  The  ffreat 
applause  that  was  given  him  by  the  vast  gathering  of 
his  profession  was,  I  assure  you,  not  complimentary 
applause,  but  it  was  given  in  pure  admiration  of  his 
great  achievements." 

"Mr.  Irving's  Louis,"  said  Mr.  Dan  Frohman,  "is 
a  vivid  and  powerful  transcript  from  history.  Once 
or  twice,  at  the  end  of  an  act,  he  lapsed  into  his 
natural  voice ;  but  this  may  be  excused  from  the  great 
draught  that  such  a  character  must  make  upon  his 
strength.  As  a  picture  of  the  subtle,  crafty,  and  ava- 
ricious old  monarch,  his  representation  was  absolutely 
perfect.  I  think  Mr.  Irving's  'Louis  XI.,'  in  a  word, 
is  a  sort  of  dramatic  liberal  education.  Every  actor 
can  learn  something  from  him.  I  wish  our  actors  could 
keep  the  integrity  of  their  characters  as  perfectly  as 
Mr.  Irving  does." 

"  Mr.  Irving  is  the  greatest  actor  I  have  ever  seen," 
said  Mr.  Tony  Pastor.  "I  have  been  to  see  him 
several  times,  and  this  is  my  opinion.  It  aint  bun- 
combe. It  comes  from  the  heart.  I've  seen  all  the 
greatest  actors,  and  have  been  a  great  deal  to  the 
theatres  since  I  have  been  in  this  business  ;  but  I  have 
never  seen  any  one  as  good  as  Mr.  Irving.  This  is  a 
compliment  I  am  paying  to  a  man  I  am  not  personally 
acquainted  with,  and  perhaps  we  shall  never  meet.  I 
don't  praise  him  so  because  I  had  an  invitation  this 
afternoon  ;  I  would  have  admired  and  applauded  his 
performance  just  as  much  if  I  had  paid  a  twenty-dollar 
bill  for  it." 


''RED  LETTER  DAYS:' 


155 


"Mr.  Irving's  Louis,"  Mr.  Colville  said,  "is  superior 
beyond  criticism.  It  is  the  most  perfect  performance 
I  have  ever  witnessed.  I  was  acting  manager  of  the 
old  Broadway  Theatre  when  Charles  Kean  played 
there,  and,  of  course,  saw  him  in  the  part." 


ui. 

"If  one  had  arranged  events  in  America  to  one's 
own  liking  one  could  not  have  had  them  go  along 
more  pleasantly,"  said  Irving,  one  Sunday  afternoon, 
when  he  was  giv '^g  nie  an  account  of  his  visit  to  Mr. 
Henry  Ward  Bee^  icr  and  Mrs.  Beecher,  at  Brooklyn  ; 
"indeed,  one  would  have  had  to  lay  in  a  stock  of 
vanity  to  even  dream  of  such  a  reception  as  we  have 
had.  It  needs  a  little  hostility  here  and  thei'o  in  the 
press  at  home,  and  on  this  side,  to  give  a  wholesome 
flavor  to  the  sweets.  It  is  a  great  rew^ard,  all 
this,  for  one's  labor.  I  was  struck  the  other  day 
with  some  passages  of  Emerson,  in  his  essay  on 
Fate,  where  he  says,  *  Concentration  is  the  secret  of 
strength  in  politics,  in  war,  in  trade ;  in  short,  in  all 
management  of  human  affairs.'  One  of  the  high 
anecdotes  of  the  world  is  the  reply  of  Newton  to  the 
inquiry,  how  he  had  *  been  able  to  achieve  his  discov- 
eries' : '  By  always  intending  my  mind.'  Diligence  passe 
sens,  Henry  VIII.  was  wont  to  s:iy,  or,  Great  is  drill. 
John  Kemble  said  that  the  worst  provincial  company 
of  actors  would  go  through  a  play  better  than  the  best 
amateur  company.  No  genius  can  recite  a  ballad  at 
first  reading  so  well  as  mediocrity  can  at  the  fifteenth 


m 


!■' 


156 


IMPMESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


i| 


ilSili 


It 


III 


or  twentieth  reading.  A  humorous  friend  of  mine 
thinks  the  reason  Nature  is  so  perfect  in  her  art,  and  gets 
up  such  inconceivably  fine  sunsets,  is,  that  'she  has 
learned  at  last  by  dint  of  doing  the  same  thing  so  very 
often.'  A  wonderful  writer,  Emerson  I  He  gives  the 
right  cue  to  all  stage -managers,  —  rehearsal !  rehearsal  I 
Mr.  Beecher  has  evidently  been  a  hard-worker  all  his 
life,  a  persistent  man  ;  and  nothing  is  done  without  it. 
First  lay  down  your  lines  ;  settle  what  you  mean  to  do, 
what  you  find  you  can  do.  and  do  it ;  the  greater  the 
opposition  the  more  courageous  and  persevering  you 
must  be ;  and  if  you  are  right,  and  strength  and  life 
hold  out,  you  must  win.  But  I  want  to  tell  you  about 
the  visit  to  Brooklyn.  Miss  Terry  and  I  were  invited 
to  visit  Mr.  Henry  Ward  Beecher.  We  went  on 
Sunday  to  his  church.  He  preached  a  good,  stirring 
sermon,  full  of  strong  common-sense.  It  was  what 
might,  in  some  respects,  be  called  an  old-fashioned 
sermon,  though  it  was  also  exceedingly  liberal.  The 
spirit  of  its  teaching  was  the  doctrine  of  brotherly  love. 
The  preacher  told  his  congregation  that  a  man  was  not 
simply  a  follower  of  Christ  because  he  went  to  church 
on  Sundays.  A  man  could,  he  said,  be  a  follower  of  the 
Saviour  without  going  to  church  at  all.  He  could  also 
be  a  follower  of  Christ,  if  he  wished,  and  belong  to  any 
church  he  liked,  —  Baptist,  Weslcyan,  Lutheran.  A 
Pagan  could  be  a  follower  of  Christ  if  he  lived  up  to  His 
doctrine  of  charity.  To  do  good  is  the  chief  end  and 
aim  of  a  good  life.  It  was  an  extemporaneous  sermon 
so  far  as  the  absence  of  manuscript  or  notes  went,  and 
was  delivered  with  masterful  point  and  vigor,  and  with 


••  RED  LETTER  DAYS.'' 


157 


some  touches  of  pure  comedy ;  Mr.  Beecher  is  a 
fjrcat  comedian.  After  the  service  Mr.  Beecher  came 
to  US,  and  oiFcred  his  arm  to, Miss  Terry.  She  took 
one  arm,  his  wife  the  other.  I  followed  with  his 
son,  and  several  other  relations.  A  few  members 
of  the  congregation  joined  the  little  procession.  Fol- 
lowing Mr.  Beecher  with  the  ladies,  we  walked  down 
the  aisle  and  into  the  street,  to  his  house.  There  was 
something  very  simple  and  dignified  about  the  whole 
business,  something  that  to  me  smacked  of  the  primitive 
churches,  without  their  austerity.  Mrs.  Beecher  is 
seventy-one  years  of  age,  —  a  perfect  gentlewoman, 
Quaker-like  in  her  dress  and  manners,  gentle  of  speech, 
but  with  a  certain  suggestion  of  firmness  of  purpose. 
Beecher  struck  me  as  a  strong,  robust,  genial,  human 
man,  a  broad,  big  fellow.  We  had  dinner,  —  the  early 
dinner  that  was  in  vogue  when  I  was  a  boy.  It  was,  I 
should  say,  a  regular  solid  New  England  meal,  —  rich 
soup,  plenty  of  fish,  a  joint  of  beef:  and  some  generous 
port  was  on  the  table.  The  host  was  most  pleasant 
and  simple ;  the  hostess,  most  unsophisticated  and 
kindly.  She  took  greatly  to  Miss  Terry,  who  also 
took  greatly  to  her." 

"Mr.  Beecher  had  been  at  the  theatre  the  night  be- 
fore ?  " 

"  Yes,  to  see  '  Louis  XI.'  " 

"  Did  he  talk  much  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes  !  and  his  conversation  was  most  interesting. 
He  related,  and  very  graphically,  an  incident  of  the 
troubled  times  before  the  abolition  of  slavery.  '  One 
day   in  the   pulpit,'   he   said,    'I   asked    my   people, 


Ii:r 


158 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


0 

Mil 

iiipiil 
'11 


mi 


m 


lift- 

ililli*: 


;.is 


suppose  you  had  a  sister,  and  she  came  to  you  and 
said,  "I  would  like  to  stay  in  your  city  of  Brooklyn; 
I  think  I  would  be  veiy  happy  here  ;  but  I  must  go 
away,  I  cannot  stay ;  I  must  depart,  probably  to  live 
with  a  reprobate,  some  hard,  cruel  man,  who  will  lay 
claim  to  me,  body  and  soul."  You  say,  "Why,  why 
must  you  go?"  She  answers,  "Because  my  body  is 
worth  so  much,  and  I  am  to  be  sold ;  and  my  little 
child,  it,  too,  is  of  value  in  the  same  way ;  my  child 
will  be  sold,  and  we  shall  be  separated."  There  was  a 
dead  silence  in  the  church.  '  My  friends,'  I  said, 
*  you  have  a  sister  in  that  position  ;  and  I  want  you  to 
buy  that  woman!'  "  Come  up  here,  Dinah  Cullum" 
(or  whatever  her  name  was),  I  said,  and  out  of  the 
congregation  stepped  a  beautiful  woman,  a  mulatto,  and 
I  said,  "  Here  she  is  ;  here  is  my  sister,  your  sister  !  " 
The  collecting  basket  was  sent  around.  More  than 
enough  was  realized  to  buy  the  woman.  And  I  said  to 
her,  "Dinah  CuUom,  you  are  free."  Then  addressing 
my  people  again,  1  said,  "  Now  you  can  buy  the  child"  ; 
and  they  did,  and  we  gave  the  child  to  its  mother  I ' 

''It  used  to  be  said  of  Lord  Beaconsfield,"  Irving 
continued,  "  that  his  Oriental  blood  and  his  race  instincts 
gave  him  his  fondness  for  jewels  ;  but  Beecher  seems  to 
have  the  same  kind  of  taste.  He  brought  out  from  a 
cabinet  a  handful  of  rings,  and  asked  me  which  I 
thought  Miss  Terry  would  like  best.  Then  he  took 
them  to  her  and  she  selected  an  aqua  marina^  which 
he  placed  upon  her  finger,  and  begged  her  to  accept  as  a 
souvenir  of  her  visit  to  Brooklyn.  '  May  I?'  said  Miss 
Terry  to  Mrs.  Beecher.     'Yes,  my  dear,  take  it,'  said 


''RED  LETTER  DAYS.'' 


159 


Mrs.  Bcecher ;  and  she  did.  It  was  quite  touching 
to  see  the  two  women  tof^ethcr,  so  different  in  their 
stations,  their  years,  their  occupations.  Miss  Terry 
was  the  first  actress  Mrs.  Beechcr  had  ever  known. 
To  begin  with,  she  was  very  courteous ;  her  greeting 
was  hospitable,  but  not  cordial.  The  suggestion  of 
coldness  in  her  demeanor  gradually  thawed,  and  at  the 
close  of  the  visit  she  took  Miss  Terry  into  her  arms, 
and  the  two  women  cried.  '  One  touch  of  nature  makes 
the  whole  world  kin.'  Human  sympathy, —  what  a  fine 
thing  it  is  I  It  is  easy  to  understand  how  a  woman  of 
the  training  and  surroundings  that  belong  to  the  class  in 
which  Mrs.  Bcecher  has  lived  might  regard  an  actress, 
and  especially  one  who  has  made  a  name,  and  is  there- 
fore the  object  of  gossip.  All  the  more  delightful  is 
the  bit  of  womanly  sympathy  that  can  bind  together 
two  natures  which  the  austerity  of  professed  religionists 
would  keep  asunder." 

"It  is  a  greater  triumph  for  the  stage  than  you,  per- 
haps, quite  appreciate, — this  visit  to  the  home  of  a 
popular  preacher ;  for,  however  liberal  Mr.  Beechcr's 
sentiments  may  be  in  regard  to  plays  and  players,  there 
are  members  of  his  congregation  who  will  not  approve 
of  his  going  to  the  theatre,  and  who  will  probably  be 
horrified  at  his  entertaining  you  at  his  own  home." 

"No  doubt,"  Irving  replied.  "Beechcr  said  to  me, 
'I  wish  you  could  come  and  spend  a  week  with  me  at 
my  little  country-house.  You  might  leave  all  the  talk- 
ing to  me,  if  you  liked.  I  would  give  you  a  bit  of  a 
sermon  now  and  then,  and  you  in  return  should  give  me 
a  bit  of  acting.     Oh,  we  should  have  a  pleasant  time  I 


IGO 


IMPHESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


?i 


You  could  lie  on  your  back  and  smoke  and  rest.  I 
suppose  some  day  you  will  allow  yourself  a  little  rest.'  " 

"  What  was  the  Bcechcr  home  like  ?  New  or  old,  — 
characteristic  of  the  host  or  not?" 

"Quite  characteristic,  I  should  say.  It  impressed 
me  as  a  home  that  had  been  gradually  furnished  over  a 
period  of  many  years.  That  was  particularly  the  case 
with  regard  to  the  library.  Around  the  walls  were  a 
series  of  cabinets,  with  old  china  and  glass  in  them. 
The  room  had  an  old  English,  or  what  I  suppose  would 
be  called  an  old  New  England,  appearance.  Books, 
pictures,  china,  and  a  wholesome  perfume  of  tobacco- 
smoke.  Mr.  Bcechcr  does  not  smoke,  but  his  sons 
do.  'I  cannot  pretend  to  put  down  these  small  vices,* 
he  said.  'I  once  tried  to,  I  believe.*  —  'Oh,  yes,* 
said  one  of  his  sons,  a  fine  fellov',  —  *the  only 
thrashing  he  ever  gave  me  was  for  smoking  a  cigar ; 
and  when  the  war  broke  out,  and  I  went  to  the  front, 
the  first  present  I  received  from  home  was  a  box  of 
cigars,  sent  to  me  by  my  father.*  Altogether  I  was 
deeply  impressed  with  Beecher.  A  robust,  fearless 
man,  I  can  quite  understand  how  great  he  might  be  in 
face  of  opposition.  Indeed,  I  was  witness  of  this  on  the 
occasion  of  his  famous  platform  fight  at  Manchester, 
during  the  war.  I  was  acting  in  a  stock  company  there 
at  the  time,  and  either  in  the  first  or  last  piece,  I  forget 
which,  I  was  able  to  go  and  hear  him  speak.  The  inci- 
dent, as  you  know,  is  historical  on  this  side  of  the  Atlan- 
tic, and  it  created  quite  a  sensation  in  Manchester.  The 
lecture-room  was  packed  with  secessionists.  Beecher 
was  attacking  the  South,  and  upholding  the  Federal 


''RED  LETTER  DAYS.'' 


IGl 


The  great,  surging  crowd  hooted  and  yelled  at 


I  fear  I  did  not  know  much  about  the  righis 


cause, 
him. 

or  wrongs  of  the  matter.  I  had  my  work  to 
do,  and,  thougli  I  watched  the  course  of  the 
American  trouble,  I  had  no  very  definite  views 
about  it.  But  I  admired  the  American  preacher.  He 
faced  his  opponents  with  a  calm,  resolute  face,  —  stood 
there  like  a  rock.  Whenever  there  was  a  lull  in  this 
commotion  he  would  speak,  and  his  words  were  defiant. 
Tliere  was  the  sound  of  the  trumpet  in  them.  We 
English  admire  courage,  worship  pluck,  and  after  a 
time  the  men  who  had  tried  their  hardest  to  shout 
Beecher  down  evidently  felt  ashamed.  There  pres- 
ently arose  cries  of  '  Hear  him  ! '  and  '  Fair  play  ! ' 
Beecher  stood  there  firm  and  defiant,  and  I  felt  my 
heart  go  out  to  liim.  Once  more  he  got  a  few  words 
in.  They  bore  upon  the  rights  of  free  speech,  and  in 
a  little  while  he  had  the  floor,  as  they  say  in  America, 
and  kept  it.  It  seemed  as  if  he  were  inspired.  He 
spoke  with  a  fervid  eloquence  I  don't  think  I  have  ever 
heard  equalled.  In  the  end  he  carried  the  entire  meet- 
ing with  him.  The  crowd  evidently  knew  no  more 
about  the  real  merits  of  the  quarrel  between  North  and 
South  than  I  did.  They  entered  the  hall  Confederates, 
and  left  it  out-and-out  Fed'  rals,  if  one  should  judge  by 
the  thundering  cheers  that  broke  out  every  now  and 
then  during  the  remainder  of  Beecher's  oration,  and  the 
unanimous  applause  that  marked  the  finish  of  it." 


1G2 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


IV. 

Among  the  little  suppers  which  Irving  accepted 
after  the  play  was  a  cosey  entertainment  given  by 
Major  Frank  Bond,  at  which  a  dozen  gentlemen  of 
distinction  in  politics,  science,  and  the  army,  were 
present.  Dr.  Fordyce  Barker,  who  was  intimate  with 
Dickens,  during  that  illustrious  author's  visits  to 
America,  was  one  of  the  guests.  He  started,  among 
other  subjects,  a  very  interesting  conversation. 

"Have  you  ever  made  studies  of  deaths  for  stage 
purposes  ?  "  asked  Dr.  Barker. 

"No." 

"  And  yet  your  last  moments  of  Mathias  and  of  Louis 
XI.  are  perfectly  consistent  and  correct  psycho- 
logically." 

"  My  idea  is  to  make  death  in  these  cases  a  charac- 
teristic Nemesis  ;  for  example,  Mathias  dies  of  the  fear 
of  discovery  ;  he  ib  fatally  haunted  by  the  dread  of  being 
found  out,  and  dies  of  it  in  v.  dream.  Louis  pulls  him- 
self together  by  a  great  effort  of  will  in  his  weakest 
physical  moment,  to  ftill  dead  —  struck  as  if  by  a 
thunderbolt  —  while  giving  an  i  ugant  command  that 
is  to  control  Heaven  itself;  and  it  seems  to  me  that  he 
should  collapse  ignominiously,  as  I  try  to  illustrate." 

"  You  succeed  perfectly,"  the  doctor  replied,  "  and 
from  a  physiological  point  of  view,  too." 

"  Hamlet's  death,  on  ^Ve  other  hand,  I  would  try 
to  make  sweet  and  gentle  as  the  character,  as  if  the 
'flights  of  angels  winged  him  to  his  rest.'" 

"  You  seem  to  have  a  genius  for  fathoming  the  con- 


I 


''RED  LETTER  DAYS.'' 


163 


ceptions  of  your  authors,  Mr.  Irving,"  said  the  doctor; 
"  and  it  is,  of  course,  very  important  to  the  ilhision  of  a 
scene  that  the  reality  of  it  should  be  consistently  main- 
tained. Last  night  I  went  to  see  a  play  called  'Moths,* 
at  Wallack's.  There  is  a  young  man  in  it  who  acts 
very  well ;  but  he,  probably  by  the  fault  of  the  author 
more  than  his  own,  commits  a  grave  error  in  the  man- 
ner of  his  death.  We  are  told  that  he  is  shot  through 
the  lungs.  This  means  almost  immediate  unconscious- 
ness, and  a  quick,  painless  death ;  yet  the  actor  in 
question  came  upon  the  stage  after  receiving  this  fatal 
wound,  made  a  coherent  speech,  and  died  in  a  peaceful 
attitude." 

"  Talking  of  interesting  psychological  investigations," 
said  Irving,  "  I  came  upon  a  curious  story,  the  other  day, 
of  the  execution  of  Dr.  de  laPommerais,  in  1864.  He 
was  a  poisoner,  somewhat  after  the  Palmer  type.  I  was 
present,  then  a  boy,  during  the  trial  of  the  English  mur- 
derer, and  was,  therefore,  all  the  more  interested  in  the 
last  hours  of  the  Frenchman.  He  was  a  skilled  physiciar., 
it  seems,  and  a  surgeon  named  Velpeau  visited  him  in 
his  prison,  the  night  befoi'c  his  execution,  in  the  pure 
interest  of  physiological  science.  'I  need  not  tell 
you,'  he  said  to  dc  la  Pommerais,  'that  one  of  the  most 
interesting  questions  in  this  connection  is,  whether  any 
ray  of  memory  or  sensibility  survives  in  the  brain  of  a 
man  after  his  head  is  severed  from  his  body.'  The 
condemned  man  turned  a  startled  and  anxious  face  to 
the  surgeon.  'You  are  to  die  ;  noiliing,  it  seems,  can 
save  you.  Will  you  not,  therefore,  utilize  your  death 
in  the  interest  of  science  ? '     Professional  instinct  mas- 


i 


164 


IMFBESSI0N8   OF  AMERICA. 


tered  physical  fear,  and  de  la  Pommerais  said,  *  I  will, 
my  friend ;  I  will.'  Velpeau  then  sat  down,  and  the 
two  discussed  and  arranged  the  proposed  experiment. 
'When  the  knife  falls,'  said  Velpeau,  'I  shall  be 
standing  at  your  side,  and  your  head  will  at  once  pass 
from  the  executioner's  hands  into  mine.  I  will  then 
cry  distinctly  into  your  ear  :  "  Count  de  la  Pommerais, 
can  you  at  this  moment  thrice  lower  the  lid  of  your 
right  eye  while  the  left  remains  open?"'  The  next 
day,  when  the  great  surgeon  reached  the  condemned 
cell,  he  found  the  doomed  man  practising  the  sign 
agreed  upon.  A  few  minutes  later  the  guillotine  had 
done  its  work, — the  head  was  in  Velpeau's  hands 
and  the  question  put.  Familiar  as  he  was  with  the 
most  shocking  scenes,  it  is  said  that  Veipeau  was 
almost  frozen  with  terror  as  he  saw  the  right  lid  fall, 
while  the  other  eye  looked  fixedly  at  him.  '  Again,' 
he  cried  frantically.  The  lids  moved,  but  they  did  not 
part.  It  was  all  over.  A  ghastly  story.  One  hopes 
it  may  not  be  true." 


A  QUIET  EVENING, 


165 


VIII. 
A  QUIET  EVENING. 

A  First  Visit  behind  the  Scenes  —  Cooper  and  Kcan  —  The  University 
Club  —  A  very  Notable  Dinner  —  Chief  Justice  Davis  and  Lord  Chief 
Justice  Coleridge  —  A  Menu  worth  Discovering  —  Terrapin  and  Canvas- 
Back  Duck — "A  liittle  Family  Party"  —  Florence's  Romance  — 
Among  the  Lambs  —  The  Fate  of  a  Manuscript  Speech  —  A  Story  of 
John  Kemble  —  Words  of  Welcome  —  Last  Night  of  the  New  York 
Engasement — Au  Eevoirl 


I. 

"  Turn  the  gas  down  a  little." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  the  attentive  Irish- American  waiter 
at  the  Brevoort  House. 

"And  don't  let  us  be  disturbed." 

"Very  well,  sir." 

"  The  fire-light  glows  on  the  walls  as  if  the  so-called 
volcanic  sunset  had  taken  possession  of  the  place," 
said  Irving,  stretching  his  legs  upon  the  hearth  ;  "  what 
a  rest  it  is  to  sit  and  talk  to  a  friend  and  look  into  the 
fire ! " 

"It  is,  indeed.  Let  us  have  a  chat  in  that  spirit, 
and  call  the  chapter  '  A  quiet  evening.' " 

"  You  mean  a  talk  for  the  book  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  one  gets  so  few  opportunities  of  this  kind 
that  it  is  worth  while  to  avail  ourselves  of  the  present 
one.  I  think  you  had  better  tell  me  what  you  have 
done  in  New  York,  and  I  will  chronicle  it  from  your 
own  lips." 


166 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


"Do  you  mean  generally,  or  in  detail?  There 
are  some  things  that  fix  themselves  in  one's  memory 
not  to  be  forgotten.  Of  course,  the  first  night 
at  the  Star  Theatre  —  one  is  not  likely  to  forget 
that ! " 

"No,  I  shall  always  remrmber  you  standing  in  the 
door-way  of  the  burgomaster's  inn.  It  had  seemed  as  if 
hours  were  passing  between  the  rise  of  the  curtain  and 
your  appearance ! " 

"  Ah  I  I  dare  say ;  we  were  all  more  or  less  anx- 
ious." 

"  But  let  us  get  away  from  the  theatre.  What  do 
you  look  back  upon  so  far,  to  remember  with  special 
pleasure,  in  the  way  of  social  entertainment  and  Amer- 
ican hospitalities  ?  " 

"It  is  difficult  to  select,  is  it  not?  It  is  bewildering 
to  try  to  select  the  incidents.  The  Lotos  dinner,  — 
that  was  glorious,  eh !  How  well  Whitelaw  Reid 
spoke  !  and  Mr.  Depew,  Dr.  Macdonald,  General  Por- 
ter, Mr.  Oakey  Hall,  —  everybody,  in  fact.  A  great 
gift  to  be  able  to  express  your  thoughts  well,  stand- 
ing up  in  the  presence  of  others  !  Then  the  Lambs 
Club.  I  felt  their  reception  as  a  very  pleasant  thing, 
because  there  were  so  many  actors  present.  I  think 
I  got  well  out  of  the  speech-making  there  by  adopting 
Florence's  written  oration.  That  amused  me  greatly, 
and  I  think  Florence  enjoyed  it  as  much  as  the  others. 
Well,  those  are  two  of  the  New  York  events.  I  am 
endeavoring  to  think  of  them  in  their  order,  categori- 
cally. The  breakfast  which  Mr.  Joseph  Harper  gave 
me  at  the  University  Club,  —  what  a  rare  lot  of  men  ! 


A  QUIET  EVENING, 


1G7 


Mr.  George  William  Curtis*  struck  me  as  one  who 
might  be  very  eloquent  as  a  speaker." 

"He  is." 

"  So  I  should  have  thought,  and  he  talks  of  the  stage 
with  the  unsophistication  of  one  who  knows  nothing 
about  it  mechanically,  but  is  full  of  the  romantic  and 
poetic  spirit  of  it.      Let  me  see,   it   was  at  Frank- 


1  On  a  later  occasion  Mr.  Curtis  (whose  eloquence  on  the  platform  and 
in  the  press,  and  whose  indcpcnilcnt  career  in  politics,  are  familiar  to  all 
Americans  and  to  many  En^i^lisli)  and  Mr.  Joseph  Harper  had  a  box  to  see 
"  The  Merchant  of  Venice."  Irvinj;^  invited  them  to  go  behind  the  scenes, 
and  afterwards  to  join  him  at  supper  in  his  room  at  the  Brevoort.  Mr. 
Curtis  said  it  was  tlie  first  time  he  had  been  on  that  side  of  the  foot-lights. 
"  I  am  not  sure  whether  1  regret  it  or  not ;  T  think  I  am  sorry  to  have  the 
illusion  of  that  last  lovely  scene  at  Belmont  set  aside  even  for  a  moment," 
While  he  was  talking  to  Miss  Terry  in  her  dress  as  the  Lady  of  Belmont, 
Loveday's  men  were  bringing  on  some  of  the  scenery  of"  The  Lyons  Mail." 
Said  ILarper,  "Beliind  the  scenes  is  always  to  me  a  good  deal  like  the 
'tween  decks  of  a  ship;  the  discipline  is  just  as  strict,  too."  During  the 
evening  after  supper  Mr.  Curtis  discussed  .v'ith  his  host  the  question  of  how 
much  an  actor  may  lose  himself  in  a  part,  and  still  have  full  control  over  it 
and  himself.  Irving  said  circumstances  sometimes  influenced  an  actor. 
An  event  which  had  disturbed  him  during  the  day  might  give  extra  color 
to  his  acting  at  night.  In  fact  an  actor  is  influenced  by  all  sorts  of  causes, 
—  as  all  other  people  are  in  their  daily  work,  —  by  health  or  weather. 
Sometimes  the  presence  of  a  friend  in  front,  or  some  current  occurrence 
of  the  moment,  or  piece  of  bad  or  good  news,  might  influence  him ;  but, 
as  a  rule,  after  an  actor  had  played  a  particular  part  for  a  long  time,  he 
generally  played  it  very  much  in  the  same  way  every  night.  **  There 
is  a  story,"  he  said,  "  of  Kean  and  Cooper  which  is  to  the  purpose.  A 
friend  met  Kean,  and  told  him  tliat  on  a  particular  night  he  was  at 
the  theatre,  and  thought  that  Kean  played  Othello  better  than  ever  he 
had  seen  him  play  it.  *  Gad,  sir,'  he  said, '  I  thought  you  would  have 
strangled  lago  outright! '  Now  we  come  to  the  solution  of  this  extra 
energy  which  had  impressed  Kean's  friend.  '  Oh,  yes,'  said  Kean ;  '  it 
was  a  Tuesday  night,  I  remember;  Cooper  tried  to  get  me  out  of  the 
focus ! '  In  those  days  the  theatre  was  lighted  with  oil  lamps,  and  only 
at  one  particular  place  on  the  stage  could  the  actors  be  seen.  To  be  in  the 
light  was  to  be  in  the  focus ;  and  that  accoimts  for  the  okl  habit  they  had 
of  getting  into  a  line  along  the  foot-lights." 


1!^ 


168 


IMPRESSIONS   OF  AMERICA. 


il 


lin    square   where   wc    saw   that   modern   Dutch    in- 
terior." 

"  The  private  room  at  Harper  Brothers  ?  '* 
"Yes,  and  where  we  again  met  Mr.  Curtis,  Mr. 
Alden,  the  editor  of  the  magazine,  and  Mr.  Conant  of 
"  The  Weekly,"  I  remember.  Don't  you  think  that 
when  America  once  takes  up  the  work  of  a  complete 
representation  of  legitimate  and  established  plays  she 
will  go  ahead  at  it  as  fast  as  she  has  done  in  the  pro- 
duction of  book-engravings  ?  " 
"I  do." 

"  And  they  tell  me  —  actors  tell  me  —  that  they 
have  never  had  Shakespeare  as  completely  and  as  wor- 
thily represented  as  at  the  Star  this  week.  Mr.  Gil- 
bert says  it  will  work  a  revolution  in  dramatic  art  in 
this  country." 

''The  papers  are  beginning  to  say  so  all  round." 
"I  confess  I  am  as  surprised  as  I  am  delighted. 
I  thought  more  had  been  done  in  the  way  of  harmoni- 
ous representation,  grouping,  color,  painting,  lighting, 
than  is  evidently  the  case.  By  the  way,  I  heard  a 
good  deal  about  this  on  the  night  of  the  Century  Club 
reception.^     They  were  very  like  Garrick  men,  many 


1  Among  the  gentlemen  present  on  this  occasion  were  Messrs.  Daniel 
Huntington  (the  president),  Gilbert  M.  Speir  (viee-presitlent),  A.  R. 
MacUonough  (secretary),  Henry  A.  Oakcy  (ti-easurer),  F.  A.  P.  Barnard 
(President  of  Columbia  College),  Albert  Bierstadt  (the  artist),  Noah 
Brooks  (journalist  and  author),  L.  P.  di  Cesnola,  S.  S.  Conant;  Profs. 
Botta,  Dwight,  Flint,  Alexander,  and  Lusk;  Judges  Choatc,  Brown,  and 
Daily ;  Bishop  Potter,  the  Ilev.  Dr.  Rylance,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Storrs,  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Brooks;  the  Honorables  John  Bigelow,  John  Hay,  J.  G.  Forrest, 
and  Edward  Mitchell;  Mr.  Joseph  Drexcl  (the  banker),  ex-Governor 
William  Dorsheimcr,  ex-Mayor  Edwai'd   Cooper,  Col.    Goddard,  Gen. 


A  QUIET  EVENING. 


169 


of  them.  An  excellent  idea  having  an  exhibition  of 
pictures  at  a  club  !  I  suppose  it  would  hardly  do  in 
London  to  allow  members  such  a  margin  in  regard  to 
the  friends  they  introduce  as  in  New  York.  I  wish  it 
could  be  done,  and,  especially,  that  granting  of  the 
entire  privileges  of  the  club  to  the  stranger  whom  you 
invite  to  dinner.  In  case  of  transient  membership,  the 
compliment  we  pay  to  a  stranger  at  the  Garrick  does 
include  all  the  privileges  of  the  club.  The  Manhat- 
tan is  a  cosey  club.  We  got  our  first  canvas-back  in 
New  York  there.  It  was  a  little  too  early  in  the  sea- 
son ;  but  in  the  way  of  a  terrapin  and  canvas-back 
dinner  the  feast  Buck  gave  us  at  Sieghortner's  was  a  tri- 
umph.*    It  scored  by  its  simplicity.     Let  me  see,  I 


CuUum  and  Gen.  Horace  Porter,  Dr.  Georf^e  Otis,  and  Messrs.  W.  Dodge, 
Wm.  M.  Evart3,  Cyrus  W.  Field,  Swain  Gilford,  Richard  W.  Gilder, 
Quincy  A.  Gillmore,  Parke  Godwin,  II.  II.  Gorringe,  I.  II.  Gourlie,  G.  S. 
Greene,  M.  K.  Jessup,  S.  E.  Lane,  Francis  F.  Marbury,  C.  II.  Marshall, 
II.  D.  Noyos,  O.  Ottcndorfcr,  II.  E.  Pellcw,  Whitclaw  Reid,  Jas.  Renouck, 
R.  G.  Remson,  A.  Thorudike  Rice,  William  Bond,  J.  F.  Ruggles,  John 
O.  Sargent,  W.  Satterlcc,  Clarence  A.  Seward,  R.  II.  Stoddard,  II.  C. 
Van  Vorst,  Theodore  Weston,  Alfred  Wilkinson,  and  many  other  well- 
known  members  of  the  club  and  thoir  friends. 

*  This  was  a  very  notable  gathering  on  November  18.  In  nearly  every 
case  the  guests  came  from  long  distances.  They  were  all  men  of  distinc- 
tion in  their  several  walks  of  life.  Among  them  were,  James  II.  Rutter, 
President  New  York  Central  &  Hudson  River  Railway ;  Hon.  Noah  Davis, 
Chief  Justice  Supreme  Court,  State  of  New  York ;  Geo.  R.  Blanchard,  Vice- 
President  New  York,  Lake  Erie,  &  Western  Railway ;  Gen.  Horace  Porter, 
President  New  York,  West  Shore,  &  Buffalo  Railway;  John  B.  Carson, 
Vice-President  and  General  Manager  Hannibal  &  St.  Joseph  Railway, 
Hannibal,  Mo. ;  Col.  P.  S.  ^lichie,  U.S.  Army,  West  Point ;  Hon.  A.  J. 
Vanderpoel,  New  York;  Hon.  Wm.  Dorsheiraer,  Member  of  Congress  and 
ex-Lieut.-Governor  New  Y'ork ;  Col.  L.  M.  Dayton,  Gen.  Sherman's  Chief 
ofStaffduringthe  war,  Cincinnati,  O. ;  Jas.  N.Matthews, Proprietor  Bnffalo 
"Express,"  Bulfalo,  N.Y.;  Hon.  Henry  Watterson,  cx-M.C.  and  editor 
"  Courier  Journal,"  Louisville,  Ky. :  Col.  Wm.  V.  Ilutcliiugs,  Governor's 


170 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


have  the  menu  here.  Now  to  look  at  it  in  comparison 
with  what  is  called  a  swell  dinner,  some  people  would 
think  its  dishes  wanting  in  variety  and  number.  Some- 
body, I  remember,  said  at  the  time,  '  This  is  a  man's 
dinner  1     Let  us  dissect  it  I '" 


Staff,  Boston,  Mass. ;  Col.  11.  G.  Parker,  Proprietor  "  Saturday  Evening 
Gazette,"  Boston,  Mass. ;  Col.  AVm.  Edwards,  Cleveland,  O. ;  Hon.  L.  J. 
Powers,  Springfield,  Mass.;  Hon.  M.  P.  Bush,  Buffalo,  N.Y. ;  John  B. 
Lyon,  Chieaj^'o,  111.;  Hon.  A.  Oakcy  Hall,  ex-Mayor  of  New  York  City; 
Lord  Bury,  W.  J.  Florence,  William  Winter,  Stephen  Fiske,  J.  H.  French, 
and  Chas.  Wyndhara.  The  dinner  was  not  reported  in  the  press ;  nor  were 
several  other  entertainments  which  are  briefly  sketched  in  the  pages  of 
these  "  Impressions." 

The  Chief  Justice  spoke  in  eloquent  terms  of  Lord  Coleridge,  whom  the 
American  bar  and  bench  had  been  proud  to  honor,  and  who,  in  his  private 
and  public  life,  realized  the  highest  ideal  of  the  American  people.  "  It  is 
our  desire,"  he  said,  "the  sincerest  wish  of  America,  to  like  the  English 
people.  We  are  always  afraid  that  our  visitors  from  the  old  country  will 
not  let  us  like  them.  When  they  do,  and  we  can  honestly  respond,  we  are 
glad."  Presently,  alluding  to  Irving,  he  said,  "  We  have  watched  youv 
career  over  a  long  period  of  time,  through  the  New  York  papers.  We 
were  prepared  to  be  interested  in  you,  and  to  bid  you  welcome.  No  people 
are  more  moved  than  ours  to  exercise  their  free  and  unbiased  judgment.  We 
have  done  so  in  your  case,  and  are  proud  to  acknowledge  tlie  greatness  of 
the  work  you  have  done ;  to  welcome  you  and  to  take  your  hand,  not  only 
for  what  you  have  achieved  in  England,  but  for  what  you  have  done  for  us 
in  America." 

Ex-Mayor  Oakey  Hall,  in  the  course  of  some  remarks  supplementaiy 
of  the  speech  of  the  Loi-d  Chief  Justice,  said,  "  A  morning  cable  despatch 
informs  me  that  the  Millais  portrait  of  our  guest  was  yesterday  added  to 
the  walls  of  the  Gan'ick  Club,  in  completion  of  its  gallery  of  David  Garrick's 
legitimate  successors.  But  on  the  walls  of  our  memories  to-night  has  been 
hung  the  original,  —  impressive  features,  poetic  eyes  and  hair,  and  a  face  so 
bright  that  it  this  moment  reflects  our  looks  of  personal  affection.  I  have 
had  the  personal  felicity,  thrice  within  the  past  fortnight,  of  seeing  our 
guest  in  the  serenity  of  private  life.  Friends  knowing  this  have  said  to  me, 
'  How  did  you  like  Henry  Imng  on  the  stage  ? '  And  I  have  answered, 
'I  have  not  yet  seen  Mr.  Irving  act.'  True,  I  had  seen  on  the  stage  of 
the  Star  Theatre,  Mathias,  and  Charles  the  First,  and  Louis  the  Eleventh, 
and  Sliylock,  and  Duboscq  and  Lesergne,  and  against  these  characters 
I  had  seen  printed  on  the  bills  of  the  play  the  name  of  Henry  Irving ;  but 


A  QUIET  EVENING. 


171 


He  had  fetched  the  me?iw  from  his  table,  had  returned 
to  his  seat  by  the  fire,  and  was  holding  the  carte 
before  his  face,  partly  to  read  it,  and  partly  to  ward 
off  the  glow  of  the  hot  coals. 

"  H^ow fjirst,  oysters  on  the  half  shell,  and  I  noticed 


le 


never  had  it  otherwise  occiuTcd  to  rao,  as  an  auditor,  that  the  guest  now 
before  us,  —  original  of  the  Milluis  picture,  — and  whom  I  saw  at  the  ban- 
quets of  the  Lotos  and  Manhattan  chibs,  was  representing  these  cliaractcrs. 
On  the  contrary,  I  cannot  connect  llcury  In'ing,  the  gentleman  of  private 
life,  with  the  actor.  If  you  say  he  is  the  same,  T  must  believe  you.  Indeed, 
I  am  now  conscious  of  having  lived  in  the  seventeenth  century,  and  of 
having  beheld  the  veritable  Charles  as  a  man  caressing  his  children  and 
his  Henrietta  Maria,  —  a  wife  rather  than  a  queen,  — on  the  i)anks  of  the 
Thames,  at  Hampton  Court,  or  as  Majesty  rebuking  Oliver  Cromwell. 
Nay,  I  have  stood  with  Charles  himself  in  the  Whitehall  Chamber  of  Death, 
and  with  my  own  streaming  eyes  I  have  witnessed  his  touching  farewell  of 
home  and  earth.  I  have  forgotten  the  merchants  of  New  York  in  the  boxes, 
and  I  have  really  seen  Shakespeare's  Merchant  of  Venice.  I  have  seen 
the  dreaming  victim  of  remorse.  I  have  lived  in  the  war-rent  realms  of 
France,  while  Louis  the  Eleventh  infected  his  court  with  his  own  moral 
leprosy.  I  have  known  in  'The  Lyons  Mail,'  the  self-respecting  and 
shrinking  mci'chant,  and  I  have  known  his  double,  the  besotted  brute  of 
a  murderer.  They  are  all  realities  to  mc  at  this  moment,  If  you  again 
tell  me  one  man  personated  all  these,  and  that  this  one  man  was  the 
original  yonder  of  the  Millais  portrait,  I  must  believe  you,  for  your 
honor's  sake.  During  an  active  career  of  a  quarter  century  I  never  had 
seen  an  approach  to  such  a  surrender  of  personal  identity  in  an  actor,  nor 
such  a  surrender  of  the  peculiarities  of  one  representation  when  the  actor 
grasped  another.  How  all  this  contradicts  a  lively  writer  in  the  cun'ent 
(November)  number  of  Clement  Scott's  '  Theatre,'  who  declares  that  every 
great  success  of  the  stage  is  duo  to  a  correspondence  of  tiie  natural 
peculiarities  of  an  actor  with  the  fictional  peculiarities  of  the  character 
portrayed !  Is  yonder  gentleman  a  victim  to  remorse  ?  Is  he  a  Shylock  ? 
Is  he  a  Duboscq  ?  Has  he  the  soul  of  a  Charles  ?  Least  of  all,  has  he  one 
peculiarity  of  Louis  ?  No.  Then  these  great  successes  are  won  —  if 
yonder  guest  be  the  actor  —  by  a  destruction  of  personal  peculiarities  and 
by  portraying  his  own  precise  opposites,  in  his  human  nature.  You  have 
all  seen  these  recently  cnnoted  characters.  Y'ou  now  —  some  of  you  for 
the  first  time  —  behold  the  man  Henry  Irving,  and  hear  him  converae.  To 
you  as  a  jury,  then,  I  appeal.  Am  I  not  right  ?  Is  not  my  experience 
yours  ?  "    (Aye !  —  Yes !  —  Yes '  —  and  great  applause.)  ,  . . 


f'VA 

B 


172 


IMPJiESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


tliey  were  on  the  liulf  ahell.  Tliat  is  the  proper  way 
to  serve  an  oyster,  and  they  should  be  in  their  own 
liquor.^  They  were  lying  on  a  bed  of  crushed  ice,  — 
did  you  notice?  The  dainty  half  of  a  lemon  was 
placed  in  the  centre  of  them.  Shall  you  include  this 
conversation  in  the  book?" 

This  last  question  he  asked  suddenly. 

"  Oh,  yes  1  I  think  it  will  be  very  interesting." 

"  Then  they  will  say  I  am  a  gourmand."  ^ 


* "  Bathed  in  their  own  liquor."  —  Sir  Henry  Thompson. 

*In  case  this  charjrc  ajjainst  Irvinfj  should  be  exploited  by  the  "little 
English  correspondent"  who  undertakes  to  describe  his  "Palace  on  the 
Thames,"  let  me  say  that  for  one  who  talks  so  well  about  eatinjj,  Irving'  — 
next  to  a  great  authority  on  gounnandize  —  recently  dead,  alas !  —  is  the 
most  moderate  diner  I  know.  He  discourses  of  dishes  w^ith  the  eloquence 
of  Brillat  Savarin,  and  cats  as  frugally  as  the  "Original  Walker"  did, 
and  is  as  easily  contented  as  was  my  late  friend,  Blanchard  JeiTold  ("Fin- 
Bee"),  who  wrote  so  much,  and  always  so  well,  about  the  art  of  dining, 
that  those  who  did  not  know  him  might  naturally  have  regarded  him  as  a 
gourmand.  He  knew  the  literature  of  "the  table"  thoroughly,  but  lived 
as  simply  as  Irving  does.  It  will  be  noted  that  it  is  the  simplicity  of  the 
dinner  under  notice  that  awakens  Irving's  enthusiasm.  New  York,  by  the 
way,  has  many  restaurants,  in  addition  to  its  most  famous  one  (Delmoni- 
co's)  and  the  house  in  Lafayette  place.  The  Iloifman  House  and  the 
Brunswick  are  well-known  for  their  excellent  cuisine.  Among  the  hotels 
that  arc  equally  famous  for  their  chefs  arc  the  Everett  House,  the  Wind- 
sor, the  St.  James,  the  Victoria,  and  the  Clarendon.  The  latter  is  to 
New  York  what  such  establisnments  as  Morley's  and  the  oldest  West  End 
hotels  are  to  London.  It  is  one  of  the  pleasantest,  and  certainly  the 
quietest,  of  New  York  houses.  There  are  very  bad  hotels  in  the  United 
States,  and  very  good  ones ;  dear  hotels,  and  hotels  where  the  charges  arc 
fair;  but  the  general  idea  of  uniform  excellence  and  uniform  dearness 
which  obtains  in  England  is  incorrect.  One  class  of  houses  which  the 
English  traveller  misses  is  the  comforta))lc  family  inn  or  tavern  (where  the 
landlord  and  landlady  are  in  evidence  all  the  time),  common  in  England, 
France,  and  Germany ;  and  the  other  absent  luxuries,  for  the  lack  of  which 
oysters  and  canvas-back  ducks  do  not  altogether  compensate  him,  are  the 
mutton-chop,  the  beefsteak,  the  ham  and  bacon,  the  sole,  salmon,  and 
Uoatci's  of  his  own  country. 


A  QUIET  EVENING. 


173 


the 
tels 
nd- 

3    to 

End 
the 
ited 

3  are 

UCS3 

I  the 
3  the 
land, 
'hirh 
He  the 
H  and 


i 


"  Who  ?  " 

"  Some  of  our  friends  in  London." 

He  emphasized  tlie  word  "  friends." 

"  They  do  now  ;  you  are  reported  as  giving  suppers 
and  banquets  in  London  on  a  grander  scale  tlian  ever 
Lucullus  dreamed  of?  " 

"  Am  I  ?  Well,  I  like  to  have  my  friends  around  me  ; 
but  I  think  they  appreciate  a  mutton-chop >  a  glass  of 
fine  wine,  and  a  good  cigar,  as  much  as  wc  do,  and,  after 
all,  Dr.  Johnson  says,  "The  man  who  can't  take  care 
of  his  stomach  can't  take  care  of  anything  else."  If  to 
be  a  gourmand,  or,  rather,  let  us  say  (jourmet,^  is  to 
^enjoy  a  well-cooked  and  elegantly  served  little  dinner 
or  supper,  then  I  plead  guilty  to  the  soft  impeachment ; 
so  let  us  go  on  eating  the  Sieghortner  banquet  over  again, 
just  as  we  shall,  I  hope,  in  future  years  sit  down  and 
re-fight  our  American  victories  by  an  English  fireside. 
To  return  to  the  bill  of  fare.  Second^  soup.  A  vege- 
table soup,  that  reminded  me  a  little  of  the  cock-a- 
lukie  which  is  so  well  constructed  at  the  Garrick  in 
London,  only  that  the  vegetable  basis  of  it  is  in  an 
esculent  we  have  not,  —  the  gumbo,  or  okra,  which  is 
so  delicious  here.  Sauterne  with  the  oysters,  and  a 
remarkably  fine  sherry  with  the  soup.  Third,  terrapin. 
I  am  told  this  came  from  Baltimore  ready  for  the  cook." 


1 "  The  difference  between  a  gourmet  and  gourmand  we  take  to  be  this : 
a  gourmet  is  he  who  selects,  for  his  nice  and  learned  delectation,  the  most 
choice  delicacies,  prepared  in  the  most  scientific  manner ;  whereas  the  gour- 
mand beat's  a  closer  analogy  to  that  class  of  great  eaters,  ill-naturedly 
(we  dare  say)  denominated  or  classed  with  aldermen."  —  Haywood's  Art 
of  Dining, 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


i.i 


1.25 


Sfia  I." 

^    U£    12.0 


12.2 


U    11 1.6 


y'- 


% 


% 


174 


IMPBESS10N8  OF  AMERICA. 


"  They  are  celebrated  at  Baltimore  for  the  three  great 
American  dishes,  — oysters,  terrapin,  and  canvas-back 
ducks.  Terrapin  is  prepared  there  and  shipped  to  all 
parts  of  the  United  States,  and  even  to  Europe.  I  am 
told  that  a  Baltimore  firm  sends  in  the  season  supplies 
of  terrapin  and  canvas-backs  to  England  for  the  table 
of  the  Prince  of  Wales."  j  N    V 1  t 

"  Indeed,"  he  answered,  "  His  Royal  Highness  knows 
what  is  good !  I  wish  he  could  have  tasted  the  Balti- 
more terrapin  at  Sieghortner's.  Buck  is  a  friend  of  the 
Duke  of  Beaufort,  and  the  duke,  they  say,  is  up  to  all 
the  luxurious  tricks  of  American  cooking. 

"Now  we  are  at  the  terrapin.  It  was  handed  round ^ 
very  hot,  and,  as  your  plate  was  removed,  a  fresh  sup- 
ply, better  still,  it  seemed  to  me,  was  placed  before  you. 
It  is  polite  to  ask  for  terrapin  twice  ;  but,  that  no  one 
might  be  embarrassed,  it  was  served  twice.  Cham- 
pagne and  Burgundy  with  the  terrapin.  I  prefer 
champagne.     'Next  to  going  to  heaven,'  said  a  friend 

near  me,  *  is  to  go  down  to ,  Baltimore,  and  eat 

terrapin.*  Fourth^  canvas-back  duck.  An  entire 
breast  of  the  bird  on  each  plate.  A  chip-potato  and  a 
little  celery  ;  you  should  eat  nothing  else  with  a  canvas- 
back  duck,  though  some  persons,  I  observe,  take  cur- 
rant or  cranberry  jelly  with  it.  As  in  the  case  of  the 
terrapin,  there  were  two  courses  of  duck,  —  the  first, 
roast ;  the  second,  grilled  and  devilled.  An  excellent 
notion  this.  A  souffle  followed;  then  cheese;  then 
coffee.  That  was  the  dinner ;  and  it  was  one  of  the 
greatest  successes  I  remember,  in  the  way  of  dining ; 
though  I  do  not  forget  how  perfectly  we  had  terrapin 


A  QUIET  EVENING. 


175 


and  canvas-back  cooked  in  our  own  humble  little  kitchen 
at  the  Lyceum  Theatre." 

"  In  responding  to  the  toast  of  your  health,  you  were 
very  much  moved."  ,  .^i'<^ 

"I  was.  Chiet'  Justice  Davis  supplemented  the 
host's  words  so  eloquently,  and  with  so  much  heart  and 
earnestness,  that  he  touched  me  deeply.  Then  his  refer- 
ences to  England, — to  Lord  Coleridge  representing  the 
high  estate  of  Lhe  Bench,  and  to  myself  as  being  con- 
sidered worthy  in  every  way  to  represent  my  art,  as  he 
in  his  way  is  to  represent  his  high  calling,  —  and  his  ten- 
der tributes  to  the  old  countiy,  and  to  the  deep,  sincere 
friendship  that  lies  at  the  root  of  the  relations  between 
England  and  America,  —  this  was  all  so  sympathetic. 
And  when  I  knew  that  many  of  the  men  around  the 
board  who  cheered  him  so  warmly  had  come  as  far  as 
a  thousand  miles  to  meet  me,  I  could  not  have  at- 
tempted to  say  more  than  to  try  and  thank  them. 
There  are  occasions  when  silence  is  the  best,  when 
'  Gentlemen,  I  thank  you  ;,  my  heart  is  too  full  to  say 
more,*  is  about  the  most  eloquent  speech  you  can  make. 
Mr.  John  B.  Lyon  came-all  the  way  from  Chicago  in 
response  to  Buck's  invitation ;  Mr.  John  B.  Carson 
came  from  Quincy,  — a  day's  journey  further  than  Chi- 
cago ;  he  had  been  fifty-two  hours  on  the  train  ;  Mr.Wat- 
terson,  — what  a  bright,  witty  fellow  he  is  I  — came  al- 
most as  far,  from  Louisville  in  the  South.'* 


t". 


i' 


ilv.'?jUii 


176 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


n. 

"  The  supper  given  to  me  by  Mr.  Florence,  at  the  St. 
James  Hotel,  was  also  an  entertainment  to  remember. 
Quite  a  little  family  party,  was  it  not  ?  Mr.  Jerome  — 
Larry,  as  his  friends  call  him  —  was  splendid  ;  and  how 
many  years  of  local  dramatic  history  he  had  at  his 
fingers' .  ends  I  We  were  quite  a  little  family  party ; 
Gilbert,  Edwards,  Jefferson, —  God  bless  him  I  —  they 
were  among  the  guests.  Florence,  if  you  remember, 
had  after  supper  a  great  brass  urn  placed  upon  the  table, 
sat  before  it,  and  made  whiskey  toddy.  How  well  actors 
understand  the  art  of  sociability  I  'Now,  friends,  let  us 
gather  round  the  tea-table,'  said  Florence,  *  and  try  the 
brew  I '  We  pronounced  it '  nectar  for  the  gods,'  and  so 
it  was.  Do  you  remember  the  interesting  episode  of  his 
boyish  days  that  Florence  told  us?  I  repeated  it  to 
some  people  who  supped  here  the  other  night.  It  is 
worth  printing,  with  his  permission." 

"And  that  of  Mrs.  Florence?"  I  suggest. 

"  Oh,  yes,  of  course  !  I  think  I  remember  it.  Flor- 
ence was  a  very  young  man,  a  boy,  in  fact,  and  was 
filling  one  of  his  first  engagements  on  any  stage  at  the 
Bowery  Tlieatre.  A  girl  about  his  own  age  (who  is 
now  a  wife,  and  a  woman  of  position,  in  New  York)  in 
the  company,  was  his  first  love.  His  adoration  was 
mingled  with  the  most  gallant  respect.  Their  salaries 
were  about  ten  to  twelve  dollars  each  a  week.  For  a 
time  they  only  played  in  the  first  piece ;  for  in  those 
days  two  plays  a  night  were  more  popular  on  the 
American  stage  than  they  are  now.     One  evening,  at 


A  QUIET  EVENING. 


177 


r 
In 

IS 

ps 
a 

It 


about  nine  o'clock,  after  pulling  himself  together  for 
80  daring  an  effort  in  his  course  of  courtship,  he  asked 
her  if  she  would  go  to  an  adjacent  restaurant  and  take 
something  to  eat.  The  house  was  kept  by  a  person  of 
the  name  of  Shields,  or  Shiells.  The  supper-room 
was  arranged  something  after  the  manner  of  the  old 
London  coffee-houses.  It  had  compartments  divided 
off  from  each  other.  Into  one  of  these  Florence  es- 
corted his  sweetheart.  He  asked  her  what  she  would 
take.  After  some  hesitation,  and  a  good  deal  of  blush- 
ing (more  probably  on  his  part  than  on  hers) ,  she  said 
oyster-itew  and  lemonade.  He  concluded  to  have  the 
same, — an  incongruous  mixture,  perhaps;  but  they 
were  boy  and  girl.  Florence  was  more  than  once  on  the 
eve  of  declaring  his  undying  passion  and  asking  her  to 
name  the  day.  Presently,  supper  being  ended,  they 
rose  to  go,  and  Florence  discovered  that  he  had  come 
away  without  his  purse,  or,  rather,  his  pocket-book,  as 
they  caJl  it  here.  He  explained  to  the  Irish  waiter  (and 
Florence,  I  suspect,  is  himself  of  Irish  descent),  who 
cut  him  short  by  saying,  'No  money?  Oh,  that  won't 
do ;  you're  not  going  to  damage  the  moral  character 
of  the  house,  bringing  of  your  girls  here,  and  then  say 
you  can't  pay  the  bill.'  —  'How  dare  you,  sir  I '  ex- 
claimed Florence,  the  girl  shrinking  back.  'Dare  I 
Oh,  bedad,  if  you  put  it  that  way,  I'll  just  give  you  a 
piece  of  my  mind  ! '  and  he  did.  It  was  a  dirty  piece, 
which  hurt  the  poor  young  fellow.  'Take  me  to 
your  master,'  he  said.  The  girl  was  crying  ;  Florence 
was  heart-broken.  The  master  was  not  less  rude  than 
the  mau.     '  Very  well,'  aaid  the  boy  ;  '  here's  my  watch 


178 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


and  ring.  I  will  call  and  redeem  them  in  the  morning 
with  the  money.  I  am  a  member  of  the  Bowery  Com- 
pany, and  I  will  ask  the  manager  to  call  and  see  you 
ialso.  Your  conduct  is  shameful  I ' — *  By  heaven,  it  is  1  * 
exclaimed  a  stranger,  who,  with  some  others,  was 
smoking  near  the  desk  of  the  clerk,  or  landlord.  *  It 
is  infamous  !  Cannot  you  understand  that  this  young 
gentleman  is  a  good,  honest  young  fellow?  Damme  I 
you  ought  to  apologize  to  him,  and  lack  that  waiter- 
fellow  out.  Don't  frown  at  me,  sir.  Give  the  young 
gentleman  his  watch  and  ring.  Here  is  a  fifty-dollar 
bill ;  take  what  he  owes,  and  give  me  the  change.' 
The  stranger  was  a  well-dressed  gentleman,  with  white 
hair ;  not  old,  but  of  a  venerable  appearance.  They 
all  went  out  together,  Florence,  the  young  lady,  and 
their  benefactor.  As  they  stepped  into  the  street, 
Florence  said,  'I  cannot  sufficiently  thank  you,  sir. 
Where  shall  I  call  and  leave  the  money  for  you  ? '  — 
*  Oh,  don't  trouble  yourself  about  it,'  said  the  benevo- 
lent gentleman ;  '  your  surly  friend  won't  make  much 
out  of  the  transaction,  —  it  was  a  counterfeit  bill  that 


he  changed  for  me.' " 


uu 


■•T.i'V 


m. 


:■}  ■m*''^-^ 


Irving  did  not  expect  to  be  called  upon  for  a  set 
speech  at  the  Lambs  Club.  The  President,  Mr. 
Florence,  did,  and  was  prepared.  He  made  no  secret 
of  his  nervousness,  nor  of  his  arrangements  against 
failure.  The  manuscript  of  his  address  was  lying 
before  him  during  the  dinner.     He  consulted  it  occar 


A  QUIET  EVENING. 


179 


sionally,  to  the  amusement  of  his  neighbors.  When  the 
time  came  he  rose,  his  speech  in  his  hand,  his  heart  in 
his  mouth.  The  most  eminent  of  actors  have  felt 
similar  sensations  under  the  influence  of  an  exaggerated 
sense  of  the  responsibility  of  making  a  public  speech. 
This  banquet  of  the  Lambs  was  not  reported  in  the 
newspapers.  As  in  other  instances  where  I  have  ven- 
tured to  annex  speeches  and  incidents  for  these  pages, 
I  have  done  so  with  the  full  consent  of  all  the  parties 
concerned.  ■  -  .   <  .»     r  - 

"Gentlemen,"  said  President  Florence,  "we  have 
met  to-night  to  do  honor  to  a  brother  actor,  —  for  in  that 
character  do  we  welcome  the  distinguished  guest  of  the 
evening,  —  an  artist  who  has  done  more  to  elevate  and 
dignify  our  calling  than  any  actor  that  ever  trod  the 
stage." 

A  ringing  cheer  greeted  these  few  sentences.  The 
applause  evidently  disturbed  the  speaker's  memory.  He 
consulted  his  MS.  and  could  make  nothing  of  it. 
Throwing  it  upon  the  table,  he  continued  his  address. 
The  few  unstudied  sentences  that  followed  came  from 
the  heart,  and  were  sufficiently  effective.  They  com- 
mended Irving  as  an  example  to  all  of  them, — an  ex- 
ample of  work,  of  unostentation,  of  success  worthily 
won  and  worn,  and  expressed  the  gratification  it  afforded 
the  Lambs  —  a  club  largely  composed  of  actors  —  to 
welcome  him  at  their  board.        .  v».      .    ;  , 

"  I'll  never  make  another  speech  as  long  as  I  live  ! " 
exclaimed  the  president,  as  he  resumed  his  seat. 

"Give  me  the  manuscript,"  said  Irving.  "Do  you 
mind  my  using  it ? "  ^.\-:,  , 


> 
t 
w 


180 


IMPBES8I0NS  OF  AMEEICA. 


f 

■;v  i 

ill 

I 


"  Not  at  all,  my  dear  friend ;  do  what  you  like  with 

Irving,  rising  to  reply,  stood  up  with  the  president's 
unspoken  speech  in  his  hand.  Referring  to  the  diffi- 
culties actors  often  experience  in  regard  to  public 
speaking,  he  said,  "At  Edinburgh,  recently,  looking 
over  the  old  *Courant,'  I  came  across  an  incident 
apropos  of  the  present  occasion.  It  was  concerning  a 
dinner  given  to  John  Kerable  in  that  city.  *The  chair 
was  taken  at  six  o'clock  by  Francis  JeiFrey,  Esq.,  who 
was  most  ably  assisted  by  the  croupiers,  John  Wilson 
and  Walter  Scott,'  —  the  creator  in  fiction  of  poor,  old, 
wretched  King  Louis  .XI.  —  Walter  Scott,  the  mighty 
master  of  romance,  who  also  proposed  this  night  'The 
Memory  of  Burns.'  (Applause.)  In  reply  to  the 
toast  of  his  health,  John  Kemble  said,  *  I  am  not  suc- 
cessful in  extemporaneous  delivery  ;  actors  are  so  much 
more  in  the  habit  of  giving  utterance  to  the  thoughts  of 
others  than  in  embodying  their  own,  that  we  are  much 
in  the  same  position  with  those  animals  who,  sub- 
sisting by  the  aid  of  others  are  completely  lost  when 
abandoned  to  their  own  resources.'  Gentlemen,  brother 
actors,  I  feel  that  I  am  in  a  similar  condition  to-niffht. 
(Cries  of '  No  !  no  ! '  and  laughter.)  But  my  friend,  the 
president,  has  given  me  leave  to  avail  myself  of  the 
eloquent  speech  which  he  had  written,  but  has  not  read 
to  you."     (Laughter.)  ■     -  ^■'  -'^^'^^ 

Irving  looked  down  at  the  president  for  his  final 
consent.  ^  ■  "^^      t  4rtu  f/v  uH,|;Mr*i,;(,f/^,2 

"Certainly,  go  ahead,"  was  the  response. 

"The  president,"    said    Irving,    reading  the    MS. 


A  QUIET  EVENING. 


181 


amidst  shoiita  of  laughter  and  applause,  "was  anxious 
to  tell  you  that  *  the  efforts  of  the  guest  of  the  evening 
have  always  been  to  make  his  dramatic  work  in  every 
way  worthy  the  respect  and  admiration  of  those  who 
honor  our  art ;  and  at  the  same  time  he  has  been  none 
the  less  indefatigable  in  promoting  tlie  social  and  in- 
tellectual standing  of  the  profession ;  this  has  been  to 
him  a  Libor  of  love.' "  •  '  '• 

Irving  read  these  lines  with  mock-oratorical  show ; 
but  when  the  laughter  of  his  hearers  cliangcd  to  loud 
applause,  he  laid  aside  the  written  speecli  of  his  friend, 
and  in  a  few  simple  words  expressed  himself  proud  of 
the  honor  the  club  had  done  him,  and  grateful  for  the 
cordiality  of  its  welcome. 

"  There  is  one  point,  however,  in  that  speech  which 
I  would  like  you  to  hear,"  said  the  president,  rising 
again,  "and  it  is  this:  'We  are  not  here  to  pass  an 
opinion  on  Mr.  Irving's  qualities  as  an  actor,  —  the 
critics  have  done  that  already ;  and,  if  you  had  at  first 
any  doubts  as  to  the  high  position  he  should  occupy 
in  our  profession,  the  American  critics  and  your  own 
judgment  have  removed  them.  Possibly  it  was  just 
as  well  that  David  Garrick  did  not  live  in  the  White 
Star  epoch,  for^  had  he  ever  crossed  the  Atlantic 
ocean,  his  bones  might  not  now  be  reposing  so 
peacefully  under  the  ancient  towers  of  Westminster 
Abbey.'"     . :   :      .:  >r  :  ,       ;• 

During  the  evening  Mr.  Henry  Edwards,'  of  Wal- 
lack's,  recited  with  stirring  effect  the  following :  — 

1  These  lines  were  written  by  Mi*s.  Marion  Fortescue,  a  lady  well  knowa 
in  New  York  society. 


182 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


WELCOME  TO  HENRY  IRVING. 

Round  about  the  board  of  banquet 

Blazed  tho  bright  wits  of  the  town : 
"  A  royal  toast,"  and  well  they  drank  it  — 

"  'Tis  for  a  king  to  wear  the  crown ; 
Thrones  may  totter  in  the  tempest, 

Empires,  too,  may  rise  and  fall; 
But  a  king,  by  grace  of  genius, 

Sits  secure  above  them  all." 


Thus,  a  grave  and  graceful  poet, 

Ard  his  glowing  glass  uplifts 
With  a  warm  eyj-flash  of  welcome 

To  the  Man  of  Many  Gifts ; 
Then  a  clamor  and  kindly  clinking 

Like  sudden  song  breaks  round  the  board, 
And  the  soul  of  the  wine  they're  drinking 

Seems  into  their  own  souls  poured. 


And,  "  Huzza  for  our  guest.  King  Irving; " 

From  a  hundred  hearty  throats. 
And  the  lovingly  lengthened  greeting, 

Like  a  chorused  chime,  up  floats  — 
When  more  swift  than  an  earthly  echo 

Bursts  a  sound  over  guest  and  hosts, 
Strangely  shrill,  yet  faint  and  far  off,  — 

i«  Way  there  for  the  coming  ghosts  I " 

1"  .    ^    >•   - 
Into  statued  silence  stricken. 

Stand  and  gaze  the  speechless  throng. 
While  the  walls  slide  wide  from  side  to  side 

As  if  moved  in  grooves  along,     ,     .•?   . 
And  a  shadowy  stage,  whose  footlights 

Loom  white  through  a  weirdly  mist. 
Is  peopled  with  phantoms  of  players 

Trooping  in  as  if  keeping  a  tryst. 


A  QUIET  EVEMNO. 


183 


Then  with  buskined  steps  and  soundless, 

Streaming  forward  as  a  tide, 
Surge  the  serried  shades  of  actors 

Whose  greatness  time  has  testified ; 
And  their  brows  are  bound  with  bay-leaves, 

And  their  garments'  phantoraed  fold 
Shape  out  the  bygone  costumes 

Of  the  parts  they  played  of  old. 

All  the  fine  and  famous  faces 

In  the  records  of  the  stage,   .'   <^  ■    ' 

Canonized  in  highest  places         '.  . 

On  the  drama's  brightest  page  I 
Their  "  brief  hour  "  made  eternal. 

Where  the  deathless  laurel  nods. 
And  where  Shakespeare  reigns  supernal       t 

In  the  green-room  of  the  gods  I 

There,  each  grandly  visioned  visage, 

Looking  through  a  mellow  haze 
On  the  spell-bound  reverent  watchers 

With  a  long,  fraternal  gaze, 
Whose  mute  and  migiity  meaning 

Seem,  like  a  benediction,  cast 
O'er  the  promise  of  the  present, 

By  the  high  priests  of  the  past  I 

I.  <    ■ , 

Then,  at  an  unseen,  silent  signal. 

Given  by  some  mystic  chief. 
Each  of  the  ghosts  of  great  ones 

From  his  own  wreath  plucks  a  leaf. 
And  fleeter  than  arrowed  lightning 

Through  space  a  chaplet's  sped  I 
And  the  brow  of  the  actor  living 

Is  laurelled  by  actors  dead  I 


And  a  sigh  sweeps  over  the  silence, 
And  the  walls  are  walls  again, 


184 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


While  the  lights  flash  up  to  brightnesi, 
And  sparkles  the  gold  champagne ; 

And  the  joyous  voice  of  the  poet 
Rings  out  the  blended  toasts, 

'•  Huzza  for  our  good  guest,  Irving! " 
And  " Huzza  for  our  grand  old  ghosts! 


IV. 

For  the  last  night  of  the  New  York  engagement  the 
programme  was  a  novelty,  in  every  respect,  to  a  New 
York  audience.  Custom  confines  the  night's  entertain- 
ment in  American  theatres  to  one  piece.  On  tliis 
occasion  the  play-bill  contained  the  first  act  of  "  Rich- 
ard III.";  the  Lyceum  version  of  "The  Belle's  Strat- 
agem " ;  the,  in  England,  well-known  recitation  of 
"Eugene  Aram";  and  Irving  was  also  expected  to 
make  a  speech.  The  programme  was  played  to  an  en- 
thusiastic audience  ;  and,  at  the  close  of  "  The  Belle's 
Stratagem,"  Mr.  Irving  addressed  them  as  follows  :  — 

"  Ladies  and  Getitlemenf — A  month  ago,  standing 
before  you  for  the  first  time,  and  stimulated  by  your 
most  kind  welcome,  I  expressed  the  hope  that  our 
loves  might  increase  as  our  days  did  grow.  You,  on 
your  part,  have  fulfilled  my  dearest  wishes,  and  I  can 
but  hope  that  we  have  not  disappointed  you.  On  that 
same  first  night  I  bespoke  your  good-will  for  my  sister 
artist,  Ellen  Terry.  I  felt  sure  that  she  would  win  all 
hearts,  and  I  believe  she  has.  For  her,  for  all  my 
comrades,  and  for  myself,  I  thank  you  for  your  enthu- 
siastic and  generous  indorsement  of  our  work.     I  am 


A   QUIET  EVENING. 


185 


sorry  that  the  time  has  come  when  I  must  leave  you. 
I  am  ghid  that  I  have  not  yet  to  say  *  Good-by,'  but 
only  ^  Au  revoir.'  In  April  next  we  shall  have  the 
honor — if  all  be  well — of  appearing  before  you 
again,  and  I  would  propose  to  present  to  you 
'Much  Ado  About  Nothing'  and  'Hamlet.'  In  my 
old  home,  on  thi  other  side  of  the  Atlantic,  these  plays 
are  often  performed  by  us  ;  and  I  hope  they  will  be  wel- 
come in  —  if  I  may  say  so  —  my  new  home  on  this 
side  of  the  sea.  And  now,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  with 
a  grateful  remembrance  of  your  kindness,  I  must  say 
*  Au  revoir.'  I  find  no  words  to  adequately  express  my 
gratitude  to  you ;  indeed,  I  would  feel  but  little,  if  I 
could  say  how  much." 


■  Retiring  for  a  few  minutes,  Irving,  in  evening 
dress,  returned  to  the  stage.  A  chair  was  placed  in 
the  centre  of  it.  Now  standing,  now  sitting,  he  re- 
cited Hood's  dramatic  poem.  The  audience  sat  spell- 
bound. Even  as  Mathias,  with  the  accessories  of  tlie 
mysterious  court-scene,  Mr.  Irving  had  not  held  New 
York  play-goers  with  a  firmer  grip.  They  followed 
the  grim  story  almost  in  silence.  The  ancient 
mariner's  narrative  did  not  more  impress  the  wedding- 
guest.  I  have  seen  all  kinds  of  audiences  in  both  hem- 
ispheres, and  under  all  sorts  of  circumstances,  and  never 
saw  a  theatre  full  of  people  more  under  the  control  of 
a  story.  At  the  end  the  api)lause  was  loud  and  con- 
tinued for  some  minutes,  the  reciter  having  to  bow  his 
acknowledgments  again  and  again.  The  next  day  a 
discriminating  critic  pointed  out  to  one  of  Irving's  few 


186 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


opponents,  that  "the  pseudo  critio  who  pronounced 
Irving's  '  Bells '  a  mere  success  of  lime-lights,  prop- 
erties, scenery,  and  stage-management,"  had  been  quite 
extinguished  "  by  the  recitation  of  Hood's  '  Dream  of 
Eugene  Aram,'  delivered  in  evening  dress,  without 
any  lime-lights,  properties,  scenery,  or  stage-manage- 
ment." ..  ■      ■■-'  f^-^' 

"And,"  added  a  journalistic  writer  in  the  "Herald" 
"  aside  from  the  artistic  success  Mr.  Irving  has  made 
here  the  financial  result  should  be  considered  very  satis- 
factory. The  total  amount  received  from  subscriptions 
and  box-office  sales  for  the  four  weeks'  engagement  is 
$75,687.  The  receipts  for  the  first  week  were  $15,772  ; 
for  the  second  week,  $18,714 ;  for  the  third  week, 
$18,880,  and  for  the  week  closing  last  evening,  $22,321. 
It  has  been  estimated  that  the  public  paid  altogether,  to 
speculators  and  to  the  box-office,  upwards  of  $200,000. 
Judged,  therefore,  by  the  financial  standard  of  the  box- 
office,  as  well  as  by  that  of  the  highest  criticism.  New 
York's  answer  to  the  London  "  Standard "  was  a  full 
and  complete  endorsement  of  the  English  popularity  of 
Henry  Irving  and  Ellen  Terry. 

But  it  remained  for  Boston,  Philadelphia,  and  Chi- 
cago, to  pronounce  upon  them.  The  campaign  was 
only  in  its  infancy,  though  the  first  stronghold  had  been 
won.  An  advance  was  made  upon  Philadelphia,  on 
the  day  following  the  recitation  of  "  Eugene  Aram." 
The  reader  who  follows  the  fortunes  of  the  campaigners 
in  these  pages  will  find  the  record  justified  by  independ- 
ent pens,  and  supported  by  the  current  chronicles  of 
the  entire  Union.  .  ; ,  ^ . ,  t ,  v  f  •  ■     ^  >  ■  ^ 


.L\y^.^.  "IN  clover:' 


187 


'■■;.  <vvv  ''.of^n    .  '^:ft':*T,;:^*   :';(v:i  •.■!,:;  v.^U   i>- 


V..-r  ■' 


■■■:f    ■!. 


rx. 


1,-1.  ■..  .  I     c, 
»     ■" 


AT  PHILADELPHIA  AND   "IN  CLOVER." 

Rivalries  of  American  Cities  —  Boston  and  Fhilaclelplila  —  The  Ileal  and 
.  the  Picturesque — Miss  Teriy's  Portia — "  Throe  Kinds  of  Criticism  "  — 
First  Appearance  as  Hamlet  —  Miss  Terry's  Ophelia — Journalism  and 
the  Stage  —  Critics,  Past  and  Present — Philadelphia  and  English  Cities 
—  A  New  Style  of  Newspaper  —  Bogus  Reports  and  IntciTiews ;  an 
Example  of  Tbera  —  The  Clover  Club  —  A  Letter  from  an  Eminent 
'  American  Tragedian — Presented  with  Forrest's  Watch —The  Macready 
Trouble  —  Hamlet,  aud  an  Invitation  from  Guest  to  Hosts. 


1 


i: , 


I. 


■«►-■ 


"  The  rivalriet  between  American  cities,"  said  Irving, 
"seem  to  take  a  far  more  aggressive  form  than  the  ri- 
valry between  England  and  America,  or  even  between 
France  and  England ;  I  mean  in  regard  to  their  criti- 
cisms of  each  other,  and  their  hostile  chaff  or  badi- 
nage in  regard  to  each  other's  peculiarities." 

"  Is  it  not  very  much  the  same  in  England?" 


'vK.V-:J 


"Perhaps." 

"Sheffield  scoffs  at  Birmingham,  Liverpool  sneers  at 
Bristol,  Manchester  is  supercilious  concerning  Lon- 
don," I  said. 

"  And  London  mildly  patronizes  the  whole  of  them. 
I  think  you  are  right ;  but  one  does  not  notice  the  com- 
petition at  home  so  much,  perhaps,  as  in  America. 
Boston  and  Philadelphia  seem  to  indulge  in  a  good  deal 
of  badinage  at  each  other's  expense." 


188 


IMPBES8I0N8  OF  AMERICA. 


"  And  they  are  both  sarcastic  about  the  morality  of 
Chicago."  .  :    •  . 

'"A  Boston  friend  of  ours,"  said  Irving,  "was  telling 
me  yesterday  of  a  little  war  of  words  he  had  with  a 
Philadelphian.  Said  Boston  to  the  Quaker,  'WeU, 
there  is  one  thing  in  which  you  have  the  best  of  us.'  — 
'  Glad  you  admit  one  point  in  our  favor  anyhow ;  what 
is  it?'  —  'You  are  nearer  to  New  York  than  we  are.' 
Our  Boston  friend  is  fond  of  New  York,  takes  his 
holidays  there  ;  says  he  likes  it  nearly  as  well  as  Lon- 
don. A  less  subtle,  but  more  direct,  hit  at  Philadelphia 
was  that  of  the  Bostonian,  who,  in  reply  to  the  question 
of  a  Philadelphian,  'Why  don't  you  layout  your  streets 
properly?'  said,  'If  they  were  as  dead  as  yours  we 
would  lay  them  out." 

"Looked  at  from  a  balloon,"  I  said,  "Philadelphia 
would  have  the  appearance  of  a  checker-board.  Bos- 
ton, on  the  other  hand,  would  present  many  of  the 
iiTCgular  features  of  an  English  city.  Both  cities  are 
eminently  representJitive  of  American  characteristics, 
and  both  are  possibly  more  English  in  their  habits, 
manners,  and  customs,  than  any  other  cities  of  the 
Union." 

"  There  is  nothing  dead  about  the  Philadelphia  streets, 
so  far  as  I  have  noticed  them,"  Irving  replied.  "This 
morning  I  walked  along  Chestnut  street,  and  thought  it 
particularly  lively  and  pleasant.  The  absence  of  the 
elevated  railroad  struck  me  as  an  advantage,  I  felt  that 
when  walking  down  Broadway,  in  New  York.  Then  the 
cars  in  the  street  itself  did  not  rush  along  at  the  New 
York  pace.      These  seem  to  me  to  be  advantages  in 


**IN  CLOVER.'' 


189 


their  way  on  the  side  of  life  in  Philadelphia.  Perhaps 
one  feels  the  rest,  too,  of  a  calmer  city,  a  quieter  at- 
mosphere." 


/■■► 


We  are  sitting  near  a  front  window  at  the  Bellevue, 
looking  out  upon  Broad  street.  Presently  we  are 
joined  by  the  interviewer,  and  Irving  is  not  long  before 
he  is  engaged  in  a  conversation  about  the  actor's  art, 
and  his  own  methods.  .jiJ^fj  v; 

"Every  character,"  he  says,  "  has  its  proper  place  on 
the  stage,  and  each  should  be  developed  to  its  greatest 
excellence,  without  unduly  intruding  upon  another,  or 
impairing  the  general  harmony  of  the  picture.  Nothing, 
perhaps,  is  more  difficult  in  a  play  than  to  determine 
the  exact  relation  of  the  real,  and  what  I  may  call  the 
picturesque.  For  instance,  it  is  the  custom  in  Alsatia 
for  men  to  wear  their  hats  in  a  public  room ;  but  in  a 
play  located  in  that  country  it  would  not  do  to  have  a 
room  scene  in  which  a  number  of  men  should  sit  around 
on  the  stage  with  their  hats  on.  There  are  reasons  why 
they  should  not  do  that.  In  the  first  place,  their  hats 
would  hide  their  faces  from  the  audience.  It  is  also  an 
incongruity  to  see  men  sitting  in  the  presence  of  an  au- 
dience with  their  heads  covered.  Then,  again,  the  at- 
tention of  the  audience  would  be  distracted  from  the 
play  by  a  feeling  of  curiosity  as  to  the  reason  why  the 
hats  were  not  removed.  These  are  little  things  that 
should  be  avoided ;  but  in  general  they  are  not  likely  to 
intrude  themselves  where  proper  regard  is  paid  to  the 
general  appearance  of  a  scene.  The  make-up  of  the 
stage  is  exactly  like  the  drawing  of  a  picture,  in  which 
lights  and  colors  are  studied,  with  a  view  to  their  effect 


190 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


upon  one  whole.  There  is  another  feature.  1  would 
not  have  the  costume  and  general  appearance  of  a  com- 
pany of  aoMiers  returning  from  a  war  exactly  the  same 
at  they  appeared  when  the  men  were  starting  for  the 
battlc-lield.  I  would  have  them  dishevel  their  hair  and 
assume  a  careworn  aspect,  but  yet  appear  in  clean 
clothes.  Everything  on  the  stage  should  always  be 
clean  and  pleasant."  .:•-...-•:.>:  i  ,^  *:•     ui\  «>,';<•. 

The  subject  of  realism  being  mentioned,  he  said  his 
death  in  "  The  Bells "  had  been  called  very  realistic, 
whereas  the  entire  story  was  unrealistic,  in  the  strict 
sense,  particularly  the  trial  and  death.  "  Dramati- 
cally poetic,  if  you  like,"  he  said,  "  but  not  realistic. 
There  are  so-called  realisms  on  the  stage  that  are  no 
doubt  offensive,  —  overstrained  illustrations  of  the 
pangs  of  death,  physical  deformities,  and  such  like. 
As  for  the  interest  of  an  audience  in  the  person  who  is 
acting,  the  knowledge  that  what  they  see  is  an  imper** 
sonation  has  its  intellectual  attractions  for  them.  For 
instance,  it  would  not  be  satisfactory  to  see  an  old  man 
of  eighty  play  '  King  Lear ' ;  but  it  would  be  highly 
satisfactory  to  an  audience  to  know  that  the  character 
was  being  portrayed  by  a  man  in  the  vigor  of  life.  As 
you  look  upon  a  picture  you  do  not  see  something  that 
is  real,. but  something  that  draws  upon  the  imagination. 

"  Perhaps  there  is  no  character  about  which  such  a 
variety  of  opinions  has  been  expressed  as  that  of 
Hamlet,  and  there  is  no  book  that  will  give  any  one 
as  much  opportunity  of  understanding  it  as  the  '  Vari- 
orum Shakespeare '  of  Mr.  Horace  Howard  Fumess. 
He  is  still  a  young  man,  —  he  is  not  an  old  man, —  and 


'*IN  clover:' 


191 


? 


ItiTist  tnat  he  will  be  able  is  complete  the  whole  of  the 
work  that  he  lias  begun,  and  I  hope  that  some  one  will 
follow  in  his  footsteps.  It  was  a  labor  of  love,  of 
most  intense  love  to  him,  and  he  has  earned  the  grati- 
tude of  all  readers  of  Shakespeare.  1  hope  I  shall 
meet  him."  •         .  > 


n. 


The  Chestnut  Street  Theatre,  where  Irving  appeared 
on  November  28,  is  a  handsome  brick  building.  The 
width  of  the  stage  at  the  proscenium  is  thirty-three 
feet,  depth  forty  feet,  height  of  proscenium  forty  feet* 
There  are  three  tiers  of  seats,  which  will  accommodate 
one  thousand  five  hundred  people.  The  theatre  was 
first  opened  in  1863,  under  the  management  of  William 
Wheatley,  with  Edwin  Forrest  as  the  leading  actor. 
The  interior  was  reconstructed  in  1874,  and  improved 
in  1875,  with  results  that  make  the  house  singularly 
elegant  and  comfortable.  Among  the  audience  on  the 
first  night  of  Irving's  appearance  were  his  old  friend 
Mr.  McHenry,  and  a  party  of  relatives  and  friends ; 
the  latter  including  Lord  and  Lady  Bury,  whom  he  and 
Miss  Terry,  and  several  of  his  fellow-travellers,  met  at 
a  number  of  social  receptions  during  the  week,     j      *, ^ 

Irving's  Louis  made  just  as  profound  an  impression 
here  as  in  New  York.  "  No  finer  performance  has  been 
seen  on  the  Philadelphian  stage  for  many  years,"  said 
the  "Ledger." — "From  his  first  appearance  on  the 
stage  to  the  moment  when  he  falls  dead  upon  the  floor, 
he  rose  from  climax  to  climax,  and  held,  not  the  hearts, 
but  the  minds,  of  his  audience  captive,"  said  the  "  In- 


%^ 


192 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


quircr"  ;  and  they  give  thcicue  to  the  general  criticisms. 
The  other  plays  were  equally  well  received.  Shylock 
excited  the  usual  controversy  uc  to  Shakespeare's  ir.ten- 
tions,  but  none  as  to  Irving's  intcq  retation  of  his  own 
views.  The  critics,  on  the  whole,  were  the  honest 
mouth-pieces  of  the  audiences  in  regard  to  their  enjoy- 
ment of  the  entire  play.  A  writer,  who  confessed  to 
disappointment  in  Miss  Terry's  Portia,  and  who  counted 
Shylock's  business  as  above  his  elocution,  had  no  words 
to  express  his  admiration  of  the  entire  setting  of  the 
piece,  which  he  described  as  "  a  discovery  and  a  con- 
quest." It  is  no  reflection  upon  the  literary  skill  and 
critical  powers  of  the  Philadelphia  press,  when  it  has  to 
be  admitted  that  here  and  there  the  notices  bore  evi- 
dence of  an  influence  preceding  Mr.  Irving's  appear- 
ance, notably  in  their  criticisms  of  Hamlet. 

"There  are  three  kinds  of  criticisms,"  said  Irving, 
when  discussing  this  point  one  evening  after  a  quiet 
supper :  "  the  criticism  that  is  written  before  the  play ; 
the  criticism  tliat  is  more  or  less  under  the  influence  of 
the  preconceived  ideas  that  are  associated  with  previous 
representations  by  other  actors  ;  and  the  criticism  that  is 
bona  fide  a  result  of  the  night's  performance,  and  also, 
in  a  measure,  an  interpretation  of  the  opinions  of  the 
audience.  What  I  mean  by  a  criticism  written  before 
the  play  is  the  notice  that  has  been  partially  prepared 
beforehand,  in  connection  with  the  literature  of  the 
subject,  and  the  controversies  as  to  the  proper  or 
improper  views  taken  of  the  character  under  dis- 
cussion. Tliese  start  in  on  one  side  or  the  other,  just 
as  the  writer  feels  about  it,  irrespective  of  the  art  that 


**IN  clover:' 


193 


is  exercised  by  tlie  actor.  This  is  more  particularly 
the  case  in  regard  to  Shylock  and  Hamlet.  As  to  the 
latter  character  there  is  the  natural  loyalty  some 
writers  feel  towards  what  is  called  the  established  or 
accepted  Hamlet  of  the  country.  It  is  not  given  to  all 
men  to  feel  that  art  is  universal,  and  of  no  country. 
Don't  think  I  am  complaining ;  I  am  not.  I  am  try- 
ing to  justify  some  of  the  Philadelphian  notices  of 
Hamlet,  which  were  in  opposition  to  the  verdict  of  the 
audience  before  whom  I  played  it  in  America  for  the 
first  time." 

"  You  were  warned  that  Philadelphia  claims  to  occupy 
the  highest  critical  chair  in  America ;  and  that,  of  all 
other  cities,  it  would  be  the  least  likely  to  accept  a  new 
Hamlet,  especially  a  Hamlet  that  aims  at  being  natural 
as  against. the  artificial  school ;  or,  in  better  words,  an 
impersonation  as  opposed  to  the  so-called  traditional 
school  of  declamation." 

"I  think  that  decided  me  to  play  Hamlet  for  the 
first  time  in  Philadelphia ;  and  I  never  played  it  to  an 
audience  that  entered  more  fully  into  the  spirit  of  my 

work."  ;  ;,-;;■> 

"  I  have  never,"  said  a  Philadelphian,  "  seen  an 
audience  in  this  city  rise  and  cheer  an  actor  as  they 
cheered  you  when  you  took  your  call  after  the  play 
scene  in  Hamlet.  Such  enthusiasm  is  unknown  here. 
Miss  Terry  and  yourself  both  might  have  had  scene- 
calls  of  the  most  cordial  character.  You  both  refused 
them ;  it  is  a  rule,  I  understand,  with  you  to  do  so. 
The  excitement  of  some  audiences  would  have  been 
dampened  by  these  checks.     Not  so  yours,  —  the  calls 


ill 


m 


194 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


at  the  close  of  the  play  were     quite   phenomenal   for 
Philadelphia." 

A  numerous  company  of  critics  and  reporters  came 
from  New  York,  Boston,  and  other  cities,  to  be  present 
at  Irving's  first  appearance  in  Hamlet.  Nowhere  at 
any  time  during  the  tour  were  the  influences  of  London 
so  apparent  as  in  the  criticisms  of  Hamlet  at  Philadel- 
phia ;  most  of  them  entirely  out  of  harmony  with  the 
warmly  expressed  satisfaction  of  one  of  the  most  in- 
tellectual and  high-class  audiences  ever  gathered  to- 
gether in  the  Chestnut  Street  Theatre.^  For  instance, 
the  "Evening  Bulletin"  found  in  the  duelling  scene  remi- 
niscences of  "ajsthetic  sketches  from  'Punch,' "  and  the 
"  Press  "  said  "  It  is  unfortunate  that  Du  Maurier  has 
taken  Miss  Terry  as  the  model  of  the  aesthetic  set. 
The  curly  blonde  hair,  delicate  face,  and  soft,  clinging 
robes  reminded  one  so  often  of  '  Punch's '  caricature, 
that  it  was  difficult  to  take  it  seriously."  There  is,  in 
certain  critical  circles  of  Philadelphia,  the  same  kind  of 
affectation  of  a  knowledge  of  English  thought,  and  a 
following  of  London  taste,  as  there  is  in  London  in  re- 
gard to  French  art  and  French  criticism.  The  audience 
at  the  Chestnut  Street  Theatre  had  no  difficulty  in 


'  Mr.  Irving  presented  a  Hamlet  last  evening  that  was  entirely  con- 
sistent with  itself  and  with  the  play,  and  the  most  virile,  picturesque,  and 
lovable  Hamlet  that  has  been  seen  on  the  stage.  There  was  great  variety 
in  hi6  moods  and  manners.  He  realized  CJoethe's  idea  of  a  born  prince,  — 
gentle,  thoughtful,  and  of  most  moral  nature,  without  the  sti'ength  of 
nerve  to  make  a  hero,  aud  overcome  by  the  responsibility  put  upon  him  by 
a  vision  whose  message  he  alternately  accepts  and  doubts.  There  was, 
indeed,  the  fullest  variety  given  to  the  part ;  it  was  dramatically  interesting, 
and  a  clearly  marked,  intelligent  stud}'  that  more  than  realized  the  expecta- 
tions that  had  been  fonncd  of  the  personation.  —  Philadelphia  Ledger. 


''IN  clover:' 


195 


tiiking  Miss  Terry's  Ophelia  senously.  There  was 
hardly  a  dry  eye  in  the  house  during  her  mad  scene. 
The  "  Bulletin  "  critic  aired  his  knowledge  of  English 
affectation  by  associating  her  with  "  Burns-Jonesism  " ; 
but  the  "  Times  "  found  "  Miss  Terry's  Opheiia  tender 
and  beautiful,  and  pathetic  beyond  any  Ophelia  we  have 
lately  seen."  The  "Record"  described  it  as  "sweet  and 
unartificial  as  the  innocent  and  demented  maiden 
Shakespeare  painted  for  us."  Said  the  "  Inquirer,"  in 
a  criticism  of  singular  literary  force:  — 

In  the  play  scene,  in  which  he  seemed  to  fill  the  whole  stage, 
in  which  a  real  frenzy  appeared  to  fall  upon  his  mind,  he  jus- 
tified by  the  greatness  of  his  acting  almost  all  that  has  been  or 
could  be  said  in  praise  of  it.  So  grandly  and  impressively  did 
he  bring  the  scene  to  a  close  as  to  call  down  thunders  of  ap- 
plause from  an  audience  that  he  hud  thrilled  and  swayed  by  a 
power  undeniably  great.  If  that  scene  was  ever  before  so 
nobly  played  we  were  not  there  to  see  it  done.  Mr.  Irving 
rose  to  greater  heights  of  excellence  as  the  play  proceeded. 
From  the  moment  Miss  Terry  put  her  foot  upon  the  scene  she 
held  and  controlled  her  audience  as  she  would.  Never  before 
upon  our  stage  has  there  appeared  an  actress  who  played 
Ophelia  with  such  lovely  grace  and  piteous  pathos.  To  all  who 
saw  this  most  perfect  performance  it  was  a  revelation  of  a 
higher,  purer,  and  nobler  dramatic  art  than  they  had  ever  seen 
or  dreamed.  What  she  did  just  here  or  there,  or  how  she  did 
it,  cannot  be  told.  Over  it  all  was  cast  the  glamour  of  the 
genius  in  which  this  fine  woman  is  so  greatly  blessed.  She 
does  not  seem  to  act,  but  to  do  that  which  nature  taught  her. 


I.-  :..■, 


196 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA, 


ni.  ,  .1-, 

Talking  of  criticism  and  the  press,  the  press  and 
the  stage,  one  evening,  Irving  expressed  some  views  in 
regard  to  the  influence  and  relations  of  the  newspaper 
and  the  theatre  which  are  full  of  suggestiveness  and 
point.       L. '     .,      ;        .  i         ■  ■    • 

"Journalism  and  the  stage,"  he  said,  "have  always 
been  more  or  less  in  sympathy  with  each  other.  As 
they  have  progressed  this  sympathy  may  be  said  to 
have  grown  into  an  alliance  in  the  best  interests  of 
civilization.  As  exponents  of  the  highest  thought  of 
the  greatest  writers,  as  educationists  of  the  most  com- 
prehensive character,  the  press  and  the  stage  are,  I 
think,  two  of  the  most  powerful  institutions  for  good 
in  our  times,  and  represent  the  greatest  possibilities  in 
the  future. 

"  It  is  interesting  to  contemplate  how  closely  they 
are  associated,  these  two  institutions,  artistically  and 
commercially.  The  advertisements  of  the  theatres  rep- 
resent a  large  revenue  to  the  newspapers  ;  the  employ- 
ment of  writers  and  reporters  in  chronicling  and  com- 
menting upon  the  work  of  the  theatres  represents,  on 
the  other  hand,  an  important  outlay  for  the  newspapers. 
The  press  is  telling  the  story  of  the  theatre  from  day 
to  day ;  and,  while  it  extends  an  earnest  and  honest 
sympathy  to  dramatic  art  in  its  highest  aspirations  of 
excellence,  I  hope  the  time  will  come  when  the  criticism 
of  the  work  of  the  stage  will  be  considered  one  of  the 
most  serious  features  that  belong  to  the  general  and 
varied  compositions  of  a  newspaper. 


**IN  CLOVER.'^ 


197 


"  In  the  past  we,  in  England,  at  all  events,  look  upon 
but  two  men  as  critics  in  the  most  complete  sense,  —  men 
who,  by  thought  and  study,  feeling  and  knowledge, 
had  the  power  to  sympathize  with  the  intention  of  the 
artist,  to  enter  into  the  motives  of  the  actor  himself, 
criticising  his  conceptions  according  to  his  inteqjreta- 
tion  of  that  which  he  desires  to  express.  These  two 
writers  were  Lamb  and  Hazlett.  But  nowadays  we 
have  thousands  of  critics.  Every  newspaper  in  Great 
Britain  has  its  critic.  Even  the  trade-journals,  and 
some  of  the  professedly  religious  journals,  have  their 
critics,  and  some  of  them  speak  with  an  emphasis  and 
an  authority  on  the  most  abstruse  principles  of  art 
A>hich  neither  Lamb  nor  Hazlett  would  have  dreamed 
of  assuming.  I  don't  know  how  this  contrasts  with 
America ;  but  I  am  sure  that  when  the  conductors  of 
the  great  journals  of  the  two  worlds  are  fully  convinced 
of  the  deep  interest  and  the  friendly  interest  the 
people  are  taking  in  the  stage  they  will  give  increas- 
ing importance  to  the  dramatic  departments  of  their 
papers." 

"  You  are  going  to  a  journalistic  breakfast  or  supper 
one  day  this  week,"  I  said.  "  Is  that  your  idea  of  the 
sort  of  speech  you  will  make  to  them?"  I  asked,  for 
he  expressed  his  opinions  with  more  than  ordinary  firm- 
ness, seeing  that  the  topic  was  comparatively  new. 

"Well,  I  thought  of  saying  something,"  he  replied, 
walking  all  the  time  about  his  room.  "  Do  you  think  the 
relations  of  the  stage  and  the  press  a  good  subject  ?  " 

"  Excellent,"  I  said  ;  "  a  text  worthy  of  an  essay  in 
'The  Fortnightly '  or  the  'Edinburgh  Keview.' " 


198 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


•f .  ■< 


IV. 


Taking  a  quiet  stroll  along  Broad  street,  and  occa- 
sionally up  and  down  the  thoroughfares  right  and  left, 
on  the  first  Sunday  afternoon  of  our  arrival  in  Phila- 
delphia, we  paused  once  or  twice  to  note  the  people 
coming  out  of  church  and  chapel. 

"You  know  that  part  of  Manchester  called  Hulme," 
said  Irving.  "  Is  not  this  quarter  like  that  ?  Could 
you  not  fancy  we  were  in  almost  any  suburban  part  of 
Manchester?  And  the  people,  do  you  see  anything  in 
their  appearance  to  denote  that  they  are  any  other  than 
English?" 

"  No ;  they  might  be  a  Birmingham,  or  a  Manchester, 
or  a  Liverpool  crowd." 

"  Better  dressed,  perhaps,  so  far  as  the  women  go. 
This  absence  of  strong  contrasts  between  American  and 
English  is  often  noticeable.  Nothing  in  that  way 
struck  me  more  forcibly  than  the  Lotos-Club  dinner  at 
New  York.  They  might  have  been  a  gathering  of 
London  clubmen,  only  that  they  all  made  such  singu- 
larly humorous  speeches.  The  English  after-dinner 
oratory  is  more  solemn.  And  the  audience  here  last 
night,  —  I  could  not  see  their  faces,  of  course;  but  I 
felt  their  influence,  and  their  response  to  various  points 
was  very  English.  I  am  told  that  it  is  thoroughly 
American  to  hurry  away  the  moment  the  curtain  falls 
on  the  last  act."  ^^      i  '       .;  w  J;      .  i; 

"It  certainly  is  the  general  practice  of  American 
audiences.  An  English  friend  of  ours,  and  a  popular 
comedian  here,  was  only  telling  me  yesterday  how  the 


W' 


**1N  clover:' 


199 


habit  afflicts  him  and  his  company.     '  At  first,'  he  said, 

*  it  was  terrible.  We  thought  we  had  utterly  failed, 
and  we  shall  never  get  used  to  it.*  He  asked  me  how 
it  affected  you.  I  would  not  hurt  his  feelings,  of  course, 
by  telling  him  that  your  audiences,  so  far,  had  waited 
every  night  to  applaud,  and  to  call  you  and  Miss  Terry, 
and  frequently , other  members  of  your  company.  I 
said  you  seemed  to  drop  into  the  habits  of  the  country 
easily."  .  ."/.': 

"  It  is  very  generous,  is  it  not  ?  And  I  know  they  are 
making  an  exception  with  us,  because  my  attention  has 
been  called  to  it  so  often.  1  drove  down  Chestnut 
street  yesterday.  Have  you  noticed  what  a  picturesque 
effect,  both  in  form  and  color,  the  sign-boards  give  to 
Chestnut  street?  And  there  is  something  very  clean 
and  homelike  about  the  private  houses,  —  red  brick 
mostly,  with  white  marble  steps  and  green  blinds. 
The  atmosphere  of  the  place  is  calmer  than  New  York. 
1  have  been  reading  a  new  daily  paper  here,  the  *  Even- 
ing Call,'  —  very  odd,  clever  kind  of  paper." 

"Yes,"  I  said;  "it  is  a  type  of  quite  a  new  de- 
parture in  daily  journalism.  The  *  Morning  Journal,' 
in  New  York,  and  the  '  Evening  News,'  in  Chicago, 
are  examples  in  point.     Akin  to  the  first  idea  of  the 

*  Figaro,'  in  London,  they  are  a  little  in  the  style  of 
the  *  Cuckoo,'  which  croaked  in  the  London  streets  for 
a  short  time.  They  may  be  considered  as  outside  the 
competition  of  the  regular  high-class  daily  journals. 
They  occupy  ground  of  their  own.  Their  leading  idea 
is  to  amuse,  rather  than  to  instruct.  They  employ 
humorous  versifiers,  story-tellers,  jesters.     They   are 


ll 


200 


IMPEESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


the  cap  and  bells  in  print,  the  jester,  or  court-fool,  in 
newspapers ;  and  sonietimes  are  as  personal  as  that 
very  strange  jester  in  the  American  play  of  *  Francesca 
da  Rimini.'  How  this  new  form  of  daily  journalism 
represents  American  civilization,  or  what  side  of  it,  is 
a  point  which  Mr.  Arnold  or  Spencer  may  be  left  to 
discuss..  I  am  glad  you  have  noticed  it,  because  I 
have  collected  a  few  Philadelphian  examples  of  its 
style,  —  bright,  easy,  clever,  frivolous,  perhaps,  and 
sometimes  a  trifle  broad,  but  full  of  go." 

We  sat  down  at  the  hotel  to  look  over  my  notes,  and 
here  are  a  few  items  from  them :  — 


Theatre-goer.  —  *'  I  notice  that  a  favorite  device  with  Irving 
in  a  moment  of  deep  feeling  is  for  him  to  clutch  and  perhaps 
tear  open  the  collar  or  loose  scarf  that  is  around  his  neck." 

Scarf  Manufacturer.  —  "Well,  I  declare!  That  is  the  best 
news  that  I  have  heard  for  a  long  time.  Three  cheers  for 
Irving ! " 

Theatre-goer.  —  "  Why,  man,  are  you  demented  ?  " 

Scarf  Manufacturer.  —  "Not  at  all.  Can't  you  see?  The 
five  hundred  thousand  amateur  actors  in  this  country  will  all 
be  imitating  Irving,  and  the  result  will  be  the  biggest  kind  of 
a  boom  in  scarfs."  ,    .' 


;v'^.  /») 


In  the  same  column  it  is  announced  that  "James 
Malley  wants  to  go  on  the  stage,"  and  the  editor  adds, 
"  We  hope  he  will  wait  until  eggs  are  cheaper."  "You 
cannot  convert  15,000  tons  into  20,000  tons,"  is 
quoted  as  a  remark  of  the  late  Lord  Beaconsfield  to 
accentuate  the  general  grievance  about  short  weight 
in  coals.  "Dizzy's  remark  clearly  shows  that  he 
knew  nothinsr  about  the  coal  business."    Plumbers  in 


"/2V  CLOVER." 


201 


America  are  subjects  of  much  newspaper  sarcasm. 
"Three  weeks  ago,"  says  the  "Lock  Haven  Express" 
"the  writer  sent  for  a  plumber,  who  never  appeared, 
but  yesterday  he  sent  in  his  bill."  The  "  Call "  prints 
this  to  add,  "He  must  have  been  a  poor  sort  of  plumber 
to  wait  three  w^eeks  before  sending  in  a  bill."  Chicago 
looks  down  upon  some  of  the  Eastern  cities,  and  there 
is  a  rivalry  between  the  journals  of  Chicago  and  the 
cities  that  are  scorned,  which  is  often  amusing.  "  The 
only  cure  for  love  is  mamage,"  says  the  "Call"  ;  "the 
only  cure  for  marriage,  divorce.  Beware  of  imitations  ; 
none  genuine  without  the  word  '  Chicago '  blown  on 
the  bottle." 

An  imaginary  description  of  Irving's  visit  to  the 
Rev.  Ward  Beecher,  with  an  account  of  the  family 
dinner  and  conversation,  was  started  by  one  of  these 
new  daily  papers,  and  it  was  repeated  even  by  several 
of  the  more  serious  journals  in  other  cities  as  a  genuine 
thinff.  It  is  difficult  sometimes  to  know  when  the  news 
of  some  of  these  papers  is  true.  Ingenious  readers 
will  probably  ask  in  what  respect  they  thus  differ  from 
other  papers.  But  our  satirical  friends  must  always  get 
in  their  little  joke.  It  strikes  me  as  a  weakness,  in  the 
programme  of  some  of  the  new  sheets,  that  you  should 
for  a  moment  be  left  in  doubt  as  to  when  they  are  in 
earnest  and  when  in  fun  ;  when  they  are  recording  real 
events,  or  when  they  are  chaffing  history.  Here  is  an 
extract  from  the  report  of  Irving's  visit  to  Beecher :  — 

The  party  rested  in  the  parlor  until  the  dinner  was  ready. 
The  conversation  was  of  an  every-day  nature,  and  did  not 
enter  deeply  either  into  theatricals  or  religion. 


202 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


The  party  filed  into  the  dining-room,  Mr.  Beecher  behind, 
turning  his  cuflfs  end  for  end  as  he  walked.  In  this  room  was 
a  palatable  show,  —  a  big,  fat  goose,  entrenched  in  gravy, 
and  flanked  by  all  kinds  of  vegetables,  slept  the  final  sleep  in 
the  centre  of  the  table.  Everything  necessary  accompanied 
the  star  of  the  feast. 

"Dark  meat.  Miss  Terry P"  asked  the  reverend  gentleman 
as  he  grasped  the  carver. 

"If  you  please,  with  plenty  of  stuffing,"  returned  the  little 
lady. 

All  were  helped  from  the  generous  goose,  and  Mr.  Beecher 
sat  down  to  enjoy  his  reward.  He  is  very  fond  of  onion  stuff- 
ing, and  had  taken  care  that  it  was  not  all  gone  before  his 
turn  came. 

"  This  goose,"  began  Mr.  Beecher,  the  bird's  biographer, 
"  has  a  history.     She  is  the  seventh  goose  of  a  seventh  "  — 

Just  what  the  reverend  gentleman  was  going  to  attribute  to 
the  goose  will  not  be  known,  as  just  then  he  tasted  the  stuff- 
ing. There  was  no  onion  in  it.  A  stern  look  came  over  his 
face,  and  he  was  on  the  point  of  saying  something  when  he 
caught  the  warning  glance  from  his  wife's  eyes  and  kept 
quiet.  Nothing  was  heard  for  ten  minutes  besides  the  tuneful 
play  of  knives,  forks,  and  dishes.  The  dinner  was  topped  off 
with  mince  and  pumpkin  pies,  in  whose  favor  the  guests  could 
not  say  too  much.  After  dinner  a  quiet,  enjoyable  talk  was 
indulged  in.  Mr.  Beecher  neglected  his  Sunday  school  to 
entertain  the  artists.  He  highly  complimented  Irving  by  tell- 
ing him  that  he  was  a  born  preacher. 

"If  I  were  not  pastor  of  Plymouth  Church,  I  would  be 
Henry  Irving,"  said  Mr.  Beecher. 

"  You  are  a  born  actor,"  said  Mr.  Irving.  "  As  for  myself, 
there  is  no  one  I  feel  more  inclined  to  envy  than  the  pastor 
of  Plymouth  Church." 

Miss  Terry  was  not  slighted  much  in  Mr.  Beecher's  meed 
of  praise.  The  topics  of  discussion  momentarily  changed 
from  America  to  England  and  back  again,  both  of  the  leading 
gentlemen  having  well-stored  minds  that  relieved  them  from 
'*  talking  shop,"  >^.^  «\'wvi.i-.^^..u;i    ■.■..'::;■   .'j^.vi^^u  .     . 


"/AT  clover:' 


203 


At  four  o'clock  the  visitors  departed,  carrying  and  leaving 
delightful  impressions. 

"  Newspapers  are  not  allowed  to  be  noisely  hawked  in 
the  streets  here,  I  find,"  said  Irving  ;  "  and  ticket  specu- 
lators on  the  sidewalks  are  also  tabooed.  A  little 
newsboy  offered  me  a  paper  yesterday  quite  confi- 
dentially. By  the  way,  you  saw  tlic  military  band 
belonging  to  "The  Evening  Call."  It  is  composed  of 
the  employes  of  the  newspaper.  It  looked  like  a  band 
of  French  guides.  It  serenaded  Miss  Terry  at  her 
hotel  yesterday,  and  afterwards  serenaded  me  at  mine. 
I  was  just  getting  up.  It  quite  affected  me  to  hear 
"  God  save  the  Queen  "  played  as  finely  almost  as  if  the 
and  of  Her  Majesty's  Guards  were  under  my  window.* 


1  Distinguished  Visitors.  —  The  "Evenia^  Call  "band  of  fifty-one 
pieces  and  the  "Evening  Call"  flute  and  drum  corps,  numbering  thirty- 
five  pieces,  making  a  total  of  eighty-six  perfonncrd,  formed  before  the 
Union  League  building  this  morning,  and  proceeded  down  Broad  street 
a  few  yards,  to  the  Hotel  Bellevue,  and  tendered  a  complimeataiy 
serenade  to  the  distinguished  English  actor,  Henry  Irving.  Several 
delightful  airs,  including  "  God  Save  the  Queen,"  were  rendered  with 
fiue  effect.  Mr.  J.  H.  Coplestone,  Mr.  Abbey's  manager  for  Mr.  Imng, 
acknowledged  the  compliment  on  behalf  of  the  eminent  tragedian.  The 
band  then  proceeded  to  the  Aldino  Hotel,  where  Miss  Ellen  Terry,  Mr. 
Irving's  leading  lady,  was  serenaded,  following  which  the  musicians 
gave  a  short  street  parade.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  serenade  Mr.  Ii-ving 
sent  the  following  pleasant  little  note  to  the  ofiice  of  the  "  Evening  Call " :  — 

"  Hotel  Bellevue,  Philadelphia, 

«  29th  November  ('  Thanksgiving  Day  •),  1883. 

"  To  the  Editor  of  the  Evening  Call : —  >■    '■     :,       ;« 

"  My  deak  Sib, — Upon  this  day  of  univeraal  thankfulness  allow  me  to 
add  a  pereonal  item.  My  thanks  to  you  and  your  magnificent  band  for  the 
honor  done  to  me  this  morning  by  their  sci-enade.  I  enjoyed  the  music 
much,  and  beg  to  add  my  tribute  of  praise  to  the  woithof  your  band  which, 
to  my  mind,  is  amongst  the  best  I  have  heard.    To  hear  the  strains  of  the 


204 


JMFEES8I0NS  OF  AMERICA. 


i'-yU' 


V. 


"Irving  in  Clover,"  was  the  journalistic  title  of  a 
report  of  "a  notable  breakfast  given  to  the  English 
tragedian,"  w^hieh  appeared  in  the  "Philadelphia 
Press."  "A  gathering  of  distinguished  men  listen  to 
entertaining  words  by  the  famous  actor;  he  is  pre- 
sented with  the  watch  of  Edwin  Forrest."     ,  . 

The  "  Clover  Club "  is  one  of  the  pleasantest  of 
Philadelphian  institutions.  Its  reception  to  Mr.  Irv- 
ing, and  the  Forrest  incident,  which  makes  the  day 
historical  in  the  annals  of  the  stage,  calls  for  a 
special  record.  As  I  was  travelling  at  this  time  to 
another  city,  I  propose  to  repeat  the  chronicle  of  the 
local  journalist,  and  Mr.  Irving's  own  personal  report 
of  the  interesting  proceedings.  Let  me  say,  then,  in 
the  language  of  the  "  Press,"  that  on  the  morning  of 
December  7  INfr.  Irving  broke  hio  fast  with  the  club 
that  has  a  four-leaved  Shamrock  on  which  to  spread  its 
bounty,  a  voire  sanU  for  its  toast  cry,  and  for  its 
motto  the  quatrain,  — 

"  While  we  live, 
..„.  "We  live  in  clover ; 

lij  When  we  die, 

We  die  all  over." 


national  anthem  of  my  own  dear  land  here  and  on  such  a  day  touched  mo 
much,  and  assures  me  again  in  a  forcible  manner  of  the  strength  of  the  af- 
fection between  the  two  countries,  America  and  England. 
"  Believe  me  to  be,  dear  sir,  yours  very  faithfuUy, 

.  (    ■  •        '    '?i^i  ;         :.      "HENRY   IRVING." 

•;■■'■■■•"'•     •:■■. -i'   :  '.■  !  ,'-^...    :•  .,-     — Evening  Call. 


••/iV  CLOVERS 


'IE 


205 


The  banqueting-room  of  the  Hotel  Belle vue,  the  scene 
or'  so  many  memorable  gatherings,  and  the  shrine  at 
which  the  quadrifoil  devotees  ever  worsliip,  had  been 
turned  into  a  fairy  bower.  The  regular  clover  table 
had  an  addition  in  the  shape  of  a  crescent,  spreading 
on  either  side  from  the  stem  of  the  club's  emblem  and 
from  its  centre,  and  concealing  a  pillar  supporting  the 
floor  above,  arose  what  the  florist's  art  made  to  appear 
a  gigantic  plant.  Its  branches,  bearing  numerous 
camellias,  reached  to  the  ceiling.  At  its  base,  in  a  bed 
of  emerald  moss,  grew  ferns  and  lilies.  Srailax  (a 
beautiful  American  creeper),  in  graceful  windings, 
covered  the  entire  board,  furnishing  a  radiant  green 
setting  for  dazzling  glass  and  shining  silver,  and 
handsome  plaques  of  flowers  and  fruits.  Directly 
in  front  of  the  president  of  the  club,  and  the  guest  of 
the  occasion,  was  a  handsome  floral  structure,  from 
which  the  modest  clover  grew  around  the  name 
"  Henry  Irving,"  composed  of  radiant  blossoms.  On 
the  emblematic  gridiron  was  placed  the  massive  "  lov- 
ing-cup.'* The  walls  of  the  room  were  covered  with 
precious  works  of  art,  and  over  all  was  shed  the  mellow 
light  of  many  wax  candles,  with  their  rays  subdued 
by  crimson  shades.  The  sunlight,  so  suggestive  of 
business  activity  and  all  that  rebukes  feasting  and 
frivolity,  was  rigorously  excluded  from  the  scene  of 
pleasure.  An  English  and  American  flag  entwined 
draped  one  end  of  the  room. 

Breakfast  was  served  shortly,  at  noon,  fifty-three 
gentlemen  sitting  around  the  clover-leaf.  Around 
the  table,  beside  Mr.  Irving  and  twenty-three  mem- 


206 


IMPltESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


bers  of  the  club,  were  seated  the  following  gentle- 
men :  Ex- Attorney-General  MacVeagh,  Charles 
Wyndham,  the  English  comedian ;  X.  Loudon  Snow- 
den,  Superintendent  of  the  Mint;  Charles  Godfrey  Le- 
land  (Hans  Breitman)  ;  Calvin  Wells,  of  Pittsburg ; 
Captain  J.  W.  Shackford,  of  the  yacht  Atlanta; 
Professor  E.  Coppee  Mitchell,  of  the  University; 
James  D.  Fish,  president  of  the  Marine  National 
Bank,  New  York,  and  owner  of  the  New  York 
Casino ;  John  B.  Schoeffel,  partner  of  Henry  E. 
Abbey;  Morton  McMichael,  .Tr.,  cashier  of  the 
First  National  Bank ;  A.  G.  Hetherington,  J.  H. 
Copleston,  James  II.  Alexander ;  Commodore  James 
M.  Ferguson,  President  of  the  Board  of  Port  Wardens ; 
E.  A.  Perry,  of  "The  Boston  Herald";  E.  T.  Steel, 
President  of  the  Boai-d  of  Education  ;  Thomas  Hoven- 
den,  J.  W.  Bailey,  jNLircus  Mayer,  Peter  A.  B.  Wid- 
ener.  Dr.  Alfred  C.  Lambdin ;  Henry  Howe,  the  "first 
old  man  "  of  Mr.  Irving's  company  ;  W.  E.  Littleton, 
J.  M.  White  ;  Hon.  Robert  P.  Porter,  of  New  York; 
Nathaniel  Childs,  the  comedian  ;  Charles  A.  Dougherty, 
J.  Beaufoy  Lane,  and  J.  H.  Falser. 

After  the  "Baby"^  member.  Colonel  John  A.  Mc- 
Caull,  had  descended  from  the  high-chair  and  been  di- 
vested of  his  rattle,  and  the  loving-cup  had  been 
passed  around,  and  the  game  on  the  bill  of  fare  had 
been  reached,  President  M.  P.  Handy  arose,  and  in  a 
few  fitting  remarks  introduced  IMr.  Irving,  reminding 
him,  in  conclusion,  that  "  this  unconventionality  is  our 

» The  youngest  member,  who  is  provided  with  a  tall  chair,  a  rattle,  and 
other  things  indicative  of  his  "  clover "  childhood.  ..     i^      ,(,, 


''IN  CLOVEIV 


207 


conventionality,"  and,  further,  that  he  was  expected  **to 
stir  up  the  animals." 

After  the  warm  applause  that  greeted  him  had  sub- 
sided, Mr.  Irving,  in  a  conversational,  unrestrained 
manner,  spoke  as  follows:  — 


"  Gentlemen,  I  can  never  forget,  so  long  as  I  live, 
the  hearty  welcome  you  have  given  me,  cc  ipled  with 
such  unusual  and  hearty  hospitality.  When  it  was  first 
known  that  I  was  coming  to  Philadelphia,  your  club 
extended  to  me  a  most  kind  invitation,  — the  first  invi- 
tation I  received  after  my  arrival  in  America,  and  one 
that  wUl  ever  be  memorable  to  me.  Your  great  hospi- 
tality, and  the  gridiron  there  before  me,  has  reminded 
me  of  an  old  organization  of  which  I  am  a  member,  — 
the  Beefsteak  Club.  I  hope  I  shall  have  the  pleasure 
of  welcoming  some  of  the  members  of  this  club  when- 
ever they  cross  the  water.  Should  any  of  them  come 
to  London  I  will  endeavor  to  make  some  return  for 
this  unexpected  welcome.  I  hope  by  that  time  we 
will  have  some  of  your  unconventional  conventionalities 
of  which  you  have,  in  such  an  excellent  manner,  given 
me  a  specimen.  I  am  told  that  speech-making  is  not 
part  of  the  programme.  Therefore  I  can  do  no  better 
than  follow  the  suggestion  of  my  friend  Dougherty, 
and  give  you  an  experience  of  my  early  life.  I  don't 
wish  to  do  aught  against  the  rules,  —  for  I  am  a  great 
stickler  for  rules.  —  which  I  see  you  carry  out ;  but  I 
will  tell  you  a  lit  o  story  concerning  my  early  life,  or 
it  may  possibly  be  the  story  of  the  early  life  of  several 
of  us."  • 


208 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


And  then  Mr.  Irving  branched  off  into  a  recitation 
descriptive  of  how  "  some  vast  amount  of  years  ago  " 
a  precocious  youth —  one  Tom  by  name,  and  but  eleven 
years  of  age  —  had  a  prematurely  amorous  longing  for 
a  spinster  of  thirty-two,  who  finally  married  an  elder, 
but  hated,  rival.  At  the  conclusion  of  the  recitation, 
which  was  received  with  great  laughter,  he  continued 
his  remarks,  as  follows:  — 

d'.  "I  feel  most  fondly  unto  you,  O  Clovers  I  Many  of 
you,  I  believe,  are  associated  with  the  press.  Between 
journalism  and  the  stage  there  has  always  beeii  a  great 
sympathy,  and  I  fancy  it  will  continue  so  until  all 
things  cease  to  exist,  I  have  often  thought  that  the 
stage  is  a  sort  of  father  of  journalism,  — it  is  a  sort  of 
Utopian  idea,  —  but  from  the  days  of  the  Greek  drama 
to  the  time  of  Shakespeare  there  was  much  news  dis- 
cussed at  the  theatres,  such  as  we  now  find  in  the  news- 
papers. Our  interests  are  mixed.  We  represent  much 
of  the  newspaper  treasury  I  know,  in  England,  and  I 
fancy  it  is  the  same  in  this  country.  We  are  there- 
fore interested,  to  a  very  large  amount,  in  the  news- 
papers, and  I  have  found  my  friend,  Charles  Wyndham, 
whom  I  am  glad  to  meet  at  this  board,  interested  to 
the  extent  of  anxiety  concerning  some  of  his  large 
advertisements. 

"  But  this  is  not  solely  a  gathering  of  journalists.  I 
have  to-day  the  honor  of  meeting  many  gentlemen  who 
represent  every  class  in  Philadelphia,  —  every  class  of 
professional  calling.  I  will  say  from  my  very  heart  that 
I  thank  you.     I  will  remember,  as  long  as  I  live,  the 


J . 


••/iv  cloveb:' 


209 


courtesy  that  has  supplemented  this  sumptuous  banquet, 
and  your  kindness  in  calling  me  to  meet  such  represent- 
ative men.  I  am  living  next  door  to  this  room,  and 
had  I  only  heard  that  I  was  to  meet  such  a  distinguished 
gathering  I  am  afraid  I  would  have  been  deterred 
from  facing  you.  Mr.  Handy,  your  president,  has  told 
me  that  your  conventionality  consists  in  being  uncon- 
ventional, and  I  have  tried  to  be  as  unconventional  as 
I  possibly  can.     I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart." 

At  the  conclusion  of  Irving's  remarks  Secretary 
Deacon  read  the  following  letter  from  the  eminent 
American  tragedian,  James  E.  Murdoch: —         '  ul 


Previous  engagements  of  a  domestic  kind  induce  me  to 
send  "  Regrets,"  in  reply  to  your  invitation  to  breakfast  with 
the  members  of  the  Clover  Club  and  their  distinguished  guest, 
Mr.  Heniy  Irving.  In  regard  to  certain  "effects,  defective" 
consequent  upon  the  "  feast  of  reason  and  the  flow  of  soul,"  I 
fi,m  constrained  to  say,  in  the  language  of  Cassio  [somewhat 
altered],  "I  have  but  a  poor  and  unhappy  stomach  for  feast- 
ing." I  am  unfortunate  in  the  infirmity,  and  dare  not  task  my 
weakness  with  the  tempting  dishes  of  mind  and  matter  so 
bountifully  served  up  at  complimentary  festivals.  I  hope  it 
will  not  be  considered  out  of  place  for  me  to  state  that  I  have 
had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Mr.  Irving  socially,  and  of  wit- 
nessing some  of  his  performances.  I  esteem  him  as  a  man  of 
gentle  manners,  and  regard  him  as  a  dramatic  genius.  He 
appears  to  me  to  possess,  in  an  eminent  degree,  all  those  quali- 
ties of  thought  and  a(3tion  which  marked  so  strikingly  the 
historical  career  of  Macready  and  Charles  Kean,  and  which 
established  the  reputation  of  those  gentlemen  for  consummate 
skill  in  stage  direction,  and  for  exquisite  portraiture  of  dramatic 
characters.  Desiring  to  be  excused  for  the  obtrusion  of  my 
opinion,  allow  me  to  add:    although  I  shall  not  have  the 


210 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA 


pleasure  of  sitting  down  to  your  banquet,  I  take  pleasure  in 
saying :  — 

"  Now,  good  digestion  wait  on  appetite  and  health  on  both  "  — 

..."  Come,  love  and  health,  to  all"  .  .  . 

'    (•'■*■ 

I  drink  to  the  general  joy  of  the  whole  table,  and  especially 
to  the  health  and  happiness  of  your  aucomplished  and  worthy 
guest. 

Yours,  always,  in  the  bonds  of  good-fellowship, 

JAMES  E.  MURDOCH. 

The  next  episode  of  the  memorable  occasion  was  one 
that  almost  moved  Mr.  Irving  to  tears.  It  was  as 
great  a  surprise  to  many  members  of  the  club  as  it  was 
to  the  guest  of  the  day.  Thomas  Donaldson,  a  well- 
known  Clover,  after  some  remarks  concerning  the 
drama,  in  wliich  he  spoke  of  the  United  States  having 
1,800  theatres,  20,000  actors  and  actresses,  and 
spending  $40,000,000  for  theatrical  entertainment, 
said :  "  ]\Ir.  Irving,  I  desire  to  present  you  with  the 
watch  of  the  greatest  genius  America  ever  produced 
on  the  mimic  stage,  —  Edwin  Forrest."  Mr.  Irving 
clasped  the  relic  extended  to  him  and  reverently  kissed 
it.  He  remained  on  his  feet,  having  impulsively  arisen, 
and  in  a  voice  deep  with  feeling  spoke  again  :  — 

"You  have  bereft  me  of  all  words.  My  blood  alone 
can  speak  for  me  in  my  face,  and  if  my  heart  could  tell 
it  would  describe  to  you  my  gratitude.  This  recalls  so 
many  memories  that  you  will  pardon  me  if  I  am  not 
able  to  express  my  deep  gratitude  for  this  mark  of 
affection.  I  say  affection,  for  to  receive  here  such  a 
memento  of  your  great  country  is  more  than  I  could 


**IN  CLOVER.'" 


211 


have  dreamt  of.  To  think  that  to-day,  before  bo  many 
distinguishcd  Americans,  a  watch  could  be  given  to 
me  that  belonged  to  Edwin  Forrest  I  It  recalls  a  most 
unfortunate  affair ;  I  refer  to  the  contretemps  between 
Forrest  and  my  countryman,  Macready.  That  such  a 
tribute  should  have  been  offered  me  shows  how  changed 
is  your  feeling  towards  art ;  shows  how  cosmopolitan 
art  is  in  all  its  phases.  I  shall  wear  this  watch,  Mr. 
Donaldson,  close  to  my  heart.  It  will  remind  me  of 
you  all,  and  of  your  city  and  of  your  country, —  not 
that  I  need  anything  to  remind  me, —  but  close  to  my 
heart  it  will  remind  me  of  your  kind  friendship.  With 
all  my  heart  I  thank  you." 

As  Mr.  Irving  sat  down  he  kissed  the  watch  again, 
and  then  placed  it  in  the  upper  left-hand  pocket  of  his 
vest.  Accompanying  the  timepiece  which  had  been  Mr. 
Donaldson's  private  possession,  were  papers  proving 
the  authenticity  of  its  original  ownership.^ 


iThe  documentary  evidence  handed  to  Ii-ving  as  establishing  the  iden- 
tity of  the  watch  are,  (1.)  a  copy  of  the  catalogue  of  the  sale  by  auction  of 
"  the  estate  of  Edwin  Foirest,  deceased,"  at  Davis  &  Harvey's  Art  Gallei'ies, 
No.  1212  Chestnut  street,  Philadelphia,  on  Feb.  4,  1883.  (2.)  A  copy  of 
the  Supplementaiy  catalogue  of  "  the  personal  effects  of  Edwin  Fon-est," 
which  sets  forth  twenty-eight  articles,  including  a  silver  watch.  (3.)  The 
auctioneer's  receipt  for  "  One  silver  watch,  the  pi"opcrty  of  Edwin  Forrest," 
and  (4.)  a  voucher  from  Mr.  Donaldson,  in  which  he  states  that,  until  he 
presented  it  to  Mr.  Ii'ving,  the  watch  had  never  been  out  of  his  possession 
from  the  time  that  he  bought  it.  Mr.  Donaldson  is  a  collector  of  bric-a- 
brac,  and  possesses  many  interesting  relics  of  the  stage.  On  Irving's  second 
visit  to  Philadelphia  we  caUed  upon  him  and  inspected  some  of  his  miscel- 
laneous treasures.  They  covered  a  wide  range  of  interest,  —  antiquarian, 
geological,  historical,  artistic,  and  literary.  A  white-haired,  picturesque- 
looking  old  gentleman  was  there  to  meet  us.  "  How  like  Tennyson !  " 
exclaimed  Irving.    The  interesting  visitor  was  Walt  Whitman.    He  ex- 


212 


IMPBESSIONS   OF  AMERICA. 


Ex-Attorney-Gcncral  MacVeagh  was  the  next 
speaker,  and  he  paid  a  very  graceful  tribute  to  foreign 
theatrical  and  operatic  artists,  and  the  welcome  they 
receive  in  these  days  on  the  shores  of   America. 

Mr.  Henry  Howe  (a  leading  member  of  Mr.  Irving's 
company),  who,  for  forty  consecutive  years,  was  a 
member  of  the  Haymarket  Theatre  Company,  made  a 
warm  defence  of  Macready  anent  the  Forrest  trouble. 
"  I  have  heard  him  say,"  said  Mr.  Howe,  "  time  and 
time  again,  *  Never  in  my  life  did  I  do  anything  that 
would  prevent  me  from  shaking  Forrest  by  the  hand. 
I  appreciate  his  genius,  and  that  I  could  ever  have  been 
thought  mean  enough  to  do  anything  against  him  is  the 
greatest  misfortune  of  my  life.'  And  henceforth,  gen- 
tlemen, I  believe  you  will  all  be  ready  to  defend  this 
man  who  has  been  unjustly  assailed." 

After  many  other  speeches,  songs,  and  recitations 
Mr.  Irving  rose  to  leave.     He  said  :  —    . 


"  The  welcome  you  have  given  me  has  surpassed  my 
most  ideal  dream.  I  cannot  describe  mv  feelings. 
Such  generosity,  such  welcome,  such  friendship,  as  I  have 
met  with  here,  no  act  of  mine  can  repay.  I  hope  to 
to  be  back  here  in  the  early  part  of  the  coming  year, 
and  I  ask  if  you  will  not  all  at  that  time  be  my  guests. 
If  you  will  come  you  will  only  add  to  the  greatness  of 
my  obligation."  ;     "    "   ; 

pressed  great  satisfaction  on  being  told  that  he  was  well  known  in  England, 
and,  in  an  amused  way,  he  stood  up,  that  Irving  might  judge  if  he  was  as 
tall  as  Tennyson.  It  is  a  milder  face,  and  less  rugged  In  its  lines,  than  the 
face  of  the  great  English  poel ;  but,  in  other  respects,  suggests  the  author 
of  "  In  Memoriam." 


**IN  CLOVERS 


213 


As  Mr.  Irving  left  the  room  he  passed  arounrl  the 
table  and  shook  hands  warmly  with  each  gentleman 
present.  The  breakfast  party  did  not  arise  until  five 
o'clock.  Among  those,  other  than  the  gentlemen  men- 
tioned, who  contributed  to  the  pleasure  of  the  occasion, 
by  speech,  song,  or  recitation,  were  Dr.  Edward 
Bedloe,  Rufus  E.  Shapley,  John  B.  Schoeffel,  A. 
Loudon  Snowden,  Hon.  Robert  P.  Porter,  A.  G. 
Hetherington,  British  Consul  Clipperton,  and  Nat. 
Childs.  At  the  latter  part  of  the  festivities  Attorney- 
General  Brewster  entered  the  room  and  expressed  his 
regrets  that  he  had  been  unable  to  be  present  in  time 
to  shake  hands  with  the  Clover  guest,  and  add  his  own 
to  the  club's  welcome  of  England's  leading  actor. 


t)     I 


214 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


X. 


BOSTON    AND    SHYLOCK. 

Rural  Scenes  on  Both  Sides  of  the  Atlantic  —  First  Impressions  of  Railway 
Travel — The  Cars  —  One  of  the  Largest  Theatres  in  America  —  The 
Drama  in  Boston  —  Early  Struggles  to  rcpi'esent  Plays  in  Public  — 
"Moral  Lectures"  —  Boston  Criticism?  —  Shylock,  Portia,  Hamlet, 
and  Ophelia  —  Different  Readings  of  Shylock  —  Dressing-Room 
Criticism  —  Shylock  considered  —  A  Reminiscence  of  Tunis  —  How 
Shakespeare  should  be  interpreted  on  the  Stage  —  Two  Methods 
illustrated —  Shylock  before  the  Court  of  Venice  —  How  Actors  should 
be  judged. 

I. 

Nothing  in  America  is  so  unlike  England  as  the 
desolate  appearance  of  the  meadows  in  the  fall  and 
early  winter  uonths.  From  New  York  to  Boston,  a 
journey  of  six  hours,  in  the  second  week  of  December, 
not  a  blade  of  green  grass  was  to  be  seen.  The  train 
ran  through  a  wilderness  of  brown,  burnt-up  meadows. 
With  a  tinge  of  yellow  in  the  color  of  them,  they 
would  h3  /e  resembled  the  late  corn-stubbles  of  an 
English  landscape.  But  all  were  a  dead,  sombre 
brown,  exct  pt  once  in  a  way,  where  a  clump  of  oaks 
still  waved  their  russet  leaves.  Another  noticeable 
contrast  to  England  is  the  wooden  houses,  that  look  so 
temporary  as  compared  with  the  brick  and  stone  of  the 
old  country.  The  absence  of  the  trim  gardens  of 
English  rural  districts  also  strikes  a  stranger,  as  do 
the  curious  and  ragged  fences  that  take  the  place  of  the 
English  hedge-rows.     The  New  England  homesteads 


m 


BOSTON  AND  SHYLOCK. 


215 


■l:   1 


are,  however,  more  like  those  of  old  England  than  are 
the  farms  of  other  States  in  the  Union.  .^  ;  • 

The  habit  of  letting  out  walls  and  buildings,  roofs 
of  barns,  and  sides  of  houses,  for  the  black  and  white 
advertisements  of  quack-medicinc  venders  and  others, 
is  a  disfigurement  of  the  land  which  every  English 
visitor  notices  with  regret ;  and  lovers  of  the  picturesque, 
Americans  and  English,  grow  positively  angry  over 
the  disfigurement  of  ^.;he  Hudson  by  these  money-making 
Goths  and  vandals.  v. 

A  change  of  scene  was  promised  for  the  Irving 
travellers  on  their  return  to  New  York,  over  the  same 
line.  A  cold  wave  from  the  West  was  predicted. 
"  We  shall  have  snow  before  long,"  said  an  American 
friend,  "  and  not  unlikely  a  hard  winter.  I  judge  so 
from  the  fact  that  all  the  great  weather  prophets  say  it 
will  be  a  mild  one.  Your  Canadian  seer,  for  instance, 
is  dead  on  an  exceptionally  calm  and  warm  winter. 
So  let  us  look  out." 

Boston  delighted  the  members  of  Irving's  company ; 
all  of  them,  except  Loveday,  who  contracted,  on  the 
way  thither,  an  attack  of  malarial  fever.  With  true 
British  pluck  he  fought  his  assailant  until  his  first 
spell  of  important  work  was  over,  and  then  he  retreated. 
Medical  assistance,  rest,  and  plenty  of  quinine,  pulled 
him  through.  But  the  company  were  destined  later 
to  sustain  other  climatic  shocks ;  and  they  all,  more 
or  less,  had  a  dread  of  the  threatened  winter.  Until 
Loveday  broke  down  everybody  had  stood  the  change 
of  climate  well.  Reports  came  from  England  that 
Miss  Ellen   Terry  was  ill    in   New  York.      On  (he 


[iillf 


mMn 


216 


IMPBESSI0N3  OF  AMERICA. 


contrary,  she  had  never  been  better  than  during  these 
first  weeks  of  the  tour.  She  suffered,  as  all  English 
women  do,  from  heated  rooms.  "That  is  my  only 
fear,"  she  said  to  me.  "  The  climate  I  —  I  don't  object  to 
it.  If  they  would  only  be  content  with  it,  I  would. 
Some  of  the  days  are  gorgeous.  The  snap  of  cold,  as 
they  call  it,  was  delightful  to  me.  But  when  I  would 
be  driving  out  in  open  carriages  New  York  ladies 
would  be  muffled  up  in  close  broughams.  And,  oh,  the 
getting  home  again  !  —  to  the  hotel,  I  mean.  An  Eng- 
lish hot-house,  where  they  grow  pine-apples, — that 
is  the  only  comparison  I  can  think  of.  And  their 
private  houses !  How  the  dear  people  can  stand  the 
overwhelming  heat  of  them,  I  don't  know !  " 

The  railway  journey  from  Philadelphia  to  Boston 
was  Irving's  first  experience  of  American  travel. 

"  It  is  splendid,"  he  said,  when  I  met  him  at  his 
hotel,  on  the  night  of  his  arrival.  "Am  I  not  tired? 
Not  a  bit.  It  has  been  a  delightful  rest.  I  slept 
nearly  the  whole  way,  except  once  when  going  to  the 
platform  and  looking  out.  At  a  station  a  man  asked 
me  which  was  Irving,  and  I  pointed  to  Mead,  who 
had  been  walking  along  the  track,  and  was  just 
then  getting  into  his  car.  No ;  I  enjoyed  the  ride  all 
the  way  ;  never  slept  better  ;  feel  quite  refreshed." 

Said  Miss  Terry,  the  next  morning,  when  I  saw  her 
at  the  Tremont  House,  "  Oh,  yes.  Hike  the  travelling  I 
It  did  not  tire  me.  Then  we  had  such  lovely  cars ! 
But  how  different  the  stations  are  compared  with  ours  I 
No  platforms  1  —  you  get  down  really  upon  the  line. 
And  how  unfinished  it  all  looks,  — except  the  cars,  and 


!ir 


BOSTON  AND  SHYLOCK. 


217 


they  are  perfect.  Oh,  yes  I  the  parlor-car  beats  our 
first-class  carriage.  I  shall  like  Boston  very  much,  — 
though  I  never  expect  to  like  any  place  as  well  as  New 
York."    .^,:i:.\xA:'<  p. ■vw^ -r. -..■,■  y-K    ":     .  .■.:5:i  *;  , 


M:y 


ii: 


The  Boston  Theatre  is  the  largest  of  the  houses  in 
which  Irving  has  played  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic. 
It  is  claimed  that  it  is  the  largest  in  the  Union,  though 
many  persons  say  that  the  Opera  House  at  the  Rocky 
Mountain  city  of  Denver  is  the  handsomest  of  all  the 
American  theatres.  The  main  entrance  to  the  Boston 
house  is  on  Washington  street.  It  has  not  an  imposing 
exterior.  The  front  entrance  is  all  that  is  visible,  the 
rest  being  filled  up  with  stores ;  but  the  hall  is  very 
spacious,  and  the  vestibule,  foyers  lobbies,  and  grand 
staircase  beyond,  are  worthy  of  the  broad  and  well- 
appointed  auditorium.  The  promenade  saloon  is  paved 
with  marble,  and  is  forty-six  feet  by  twenty-six  feet, 
and  proportionately  high.  Upon  the  walls,  and  here 
and  there  on  easels,  are  portraits  of  Irving,  Booth, 
McCuUough,  Salvini,  and  other  notable  persons.  The 
promenade  and  entrance  hall  cover  one  hundred  feet 
from  the  doors  to  the  auditorium,  which,  in  its  turn,  is 
ninety  feet  from  the  back  row  to  the  foot-lights.  The 
stage  is  one  hundred  feet  wide  and  ninety  feet  deep ; 
and  the  interior  of  the  house  from  front  to  back  covers 
three  hundred  feet,  the  average  width  being  about  one 
hundred  feet.  In  addition  to  the  parquette,  which 
occupies  the  entire  fioor  (as  the  stalls  do  at  the  English 
Opera  Comique,  and,  by  a  recent  change,  also  at  the 


218 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


Haymarket) ,  there  are  three  balconies,  severally  known 
as  the  dress  circle,  the  family  circle,  and  the  gallery. 
The  house  will  seat  three  thousand  people.  It  is  built 
on  a  series  of  arches,  or  supporting  columns,  leaving 
the  basement  quite  open,  giving,  so  far  as  the  stage  is 
concern-  1,  great  facilities  for  the  manipulation  of 
scenery  and  for  storage,  and  allowing  space  for  offices, 
drill-rooms  for  supers,  and  other  purposes. 

"It  is  a  magnificent  theatre,"  said  Irving;  "the 
auditorium  superb,  the  stage  fine  ;  the  pitch  of  the  audi- 
torium in  harmony  with  the  stage,  by  which  I  mean 
there  is  an  artistic  view  of  the  stage  from  every  seat ; 
the  gas  managements  are  perfect,  and  the  system  of 
general  ventilation  unique  ;  but  the  dressing-rooms  are 
small  and  inconvenient.  For  anything  like  quiet  act- 
ing, for  work  in  which  detail  of  facial  expression,  sig- 
nificant gesture,  or  delicate  asides,  are  important,  the 
theatre  is  too  large." 

"  Are  you  acquainted  with  the  history  of  the  stage 
in  Boston?"  I  asked  him,  "or  of  this  theatre  in  par- 
ticular?"     . '  ,  ? 

"  Only  from  what  I  have  read  or  heard  in  a  cursory 
way,"  he  said;  "but  one  can  readily  understand  that 
our  Puritan  ancestors  would  bring  with  them  to  these 
shores  their  hatred  of  plays  and  players.  The  actors 
persevered  in  their  terrible  occupation  in  New  England, 
notwithstanding  a  local  ordinance  to  prevent  stage 
plays  and  other  theatrical  entertainments,  passed  in 
1750.  Otway's  *  Orphan'  was,  I  am  told,  the  first 
piece  done  in  Boston.  It  was  played  at  the  British 
Coffee-house,  *by  a  company  of  gentlemen,'  and  this 


^  BOSTON  AND  8EYL0CK.  \ 


219 


gave  rise  to  the  passing  of  the  act  in  question.  Some 
five  or  ten  years  later  a  number  of  Tories  got  up  an 
association  to  promote  acting  and  defy  this  statute. 
They  revolted  in  favor  of  art ;  and  in  these  days  of 
political  tolerance  that  is  a  good  thing  to  remember. 
The  members  of  this  society  were  chiefly  British  oflfi- 
cers,  who,  with  their  subalterns  and  private  soldiers, 
formed  the  acting  company.  I  believe  one  of  them 
wrote  the  first  piece  they  attempted  to  give  in  public. 
It  was  called  '  The  Blockade  of  Boston' ;  but  the  enter- 
tainment was  stopped  by  a  ruse,  —  a  sudden  report 
that  fighting  had  begun  at  Charlestown ;  a  call  to 
arms,  in  fact.  For  many  years  no  more  efforts  were 
made  to  amuse  or  instruct  the  people  with  semi-the- 
atrical entertainments  or  stage  plays.  The  next 
attempt  was  a  theatre,  or,  more  properly  speaking,  a 
variety  show,  in  disguise.  The  house  was  called  '  The 
New  Exhibition  Room,'  and  the  entertainment  was  an- 
nounced as  *  a  moral  lecture.'  One  Joseph  Harper  was 
the  manager.  The  programme  of  the  first  night  in- 
cluded tight-rope  dancing,  and  various  other  athletic 
feats  ;  '  an  introductory  address ' ;  singing,  by  a  Mr. 
Woods ;  tumbling,  by  Mr.  Placide ;  and,  in  the  course 
of  the  evening,  *  will  be  delivered  the  Gallery  of  Por- 
traits ;  or,  the  World  as  it  Goes,  by  Mr.  Harper. 
Later,  *  Venice  Preserved'  wao  announced  as  a  moral 
lecture,  'in  which  the  dreadful  effects  of  conspiracy 
will  be  exemplified.'  Mr.  Clapp's  book  on  Boston 
contains  several  cm'ious  instances  of  this  kind.  Shake- 
speare, it  seems,  filled  the  stage  as  'a  moral  lecturer'; 
and  a  familiar  old  English  drama  was  played  as  *  a 


220 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


moral  lecture,  in  five  parts,  wherein  the  pernicious  ten- 
dency of  libertinism  will  be  exemplified  in  the  tragical 
history  of  George  Barnwell ;  or,  the  London  Mer- 
chant.' Eventually,  in  the  year  1793,  I  think,  or 
thereabouts.  Harper  was  arrested  on  the  stage  while 
playing  Richard  in  one  of  Shakespeare's  moral  illus- 
trations of  the  bane  of  ambition  and  the  triumph  of 
virtue  over  vice.  The  audience  protested,  and  destroyed 
a  portrait  of  the  governor  of  the  city,  which  hung  over 
the  stage-box.  They  also  tore  down  the  State  arms, 
and  trampled  upon  them.  At  the  hearing  of  the 
charge  against  Harper  a  technical  flaw  in  the  indict- 
ment procured  his  discharge.  After  this,  however, 
the  *  Exhibition  Room '  did  not  flourish ;  but  a  bold 
and  earnest  movement,  a  year  or  two  later,  resulted  in 
the  building  of  the  Federal  Street  Theatre,  sometimes 
also  called  the  Boston,  and  sometimes  Old  Drury, 
after  the  London  house.  From  this  time  the  stage  in 
Boston  is  a  fact ;  and  one  feels  at  home  in  reading  over 
the  names  of  the  actors  who  have  been  well  known  here, 
—  Macready,  Charles  Kemble  and  Fanny  Kemble, 
Charlotte  Cushman,  Ellen  Tree,  John  Vandenhoff, 
Sheridan  Knowles,  John  Gilbert,  Fanny  Ellsler,  the 
Booths,  our  friend  Warren,  and  others.  The  present 
theatre,  the  Boston,^  in  which  we  are  acting,  has  been 

1  The  Boston  was  built  in  1854  by  a  stock  company.  It  wag  opened  on 
the  11th  September  in  that  year,  under  the  management  of  the  late 
Thomas  Barry,  and  for  some  time  was  in  the  hands  of  Junius  Brutus  Booth. 
After  a  time  the  company  gave  up  the  theatre,  and  it  was  acquired  by 
Messrs.  Thayer  and  Tompkins.  On  the  death  of  Mr.  Thayer,  Mr.  Tomp- 
kins associated  with  himself  Mr.  Hill,  who  had  been  a  prominent  stock- 
holder, and  they  have  since  continued  as  proprietors.  Mr.  Eugene  Tomp- 
kins, sou  of  the  chief  proprietor,  is  the  general  manager.  — King's  £oat<M. 


BOSTON  AND  SHYLOCK. 


221 


built  about  thirty  years.  The  grand  ball  given  to  the 
Prince  of  Wales  when  he  visited  this  country  took 
place  here,  the  auditorium  being  boarded  for  the  occa- 


sion. 


« 


, .  III. 

"The  audience**  on  the  first  night  of  Irving's  ap- 
pearance in  Boston,  said  the  "  Post,"  on  the  following 
morning,  "  was  not  made  up  of  average  theatre-goers  ; 
many  regular  '  first-nighters '  were  there,  but  a  very 
large  majority  of  those  present  were  people  of  wealth, 
who  go  to  the  theatre  comparatively  little."  ^  The 
play  was  "Louis  XI."  It  excited  expressions  of 
admiration  in  the  audience,  and  was  as  warmly 
praised  in  the  press  as  at  New  York  and  Philadelphia. 
A  fine  theatre,  the  scenery  appeared  almost  to  greater 
advantage  than  in  the  Lyceum  itself;  and  some  of  the 
readers  of  these  pages  will  be  surprised  to  learn  that 

1  Mr.  Oliver  Ditaon,  General  Blackmar  and  party,  Mr.  Joseph  Thorpe, 
and  Mrs.  Ole  Bull.  In  the  body  of  the  house  wei-e  seen  General  Devens, 
Colonel  Henry  Lee,  Mr.  J.  R.  Osgood,  Colonel  Fairehild,  Mr.  T.  B. 
Aldrich,  Mr.  Boyle  O'Reilly,  Mr.  Robert  Treat  Paine,  Pi-ofessor  Pierce,  of 
Cambridge,  Mr.  S.  H.  Russell,  Mr.  Charles  F.  Sherwin,  Mr.  Thomas  G. 
Appleton,  Mr.  Hamilton  Wild,  Mi*.  B.  C.  Porter,  ex -Mayor  Green,  Colonel 
W.  v.  Ilutchins,  General  Whittier,  Mr.  A.  V.  S.  Anthony,  Mr.  Arthur 
Dexter,  Mr.  George  H.  Chicker.og,  Mr.  Curtis  Guild,  Colonel  H.  G. 
Parker,  Hon.  R.  M.  Moree,  Jr.,  Mr.  H.  M.  Ticknor,  Colonel  W.  W.  Clapp, 
Mr.  Martin  Brimmer,  Signer  Ventura,  Mr.  T.  R.  Sullivan,  Mr.  Higginson, 
Mr.  Hemenway,  Mr.  Matt.  Ijuce,  Hon.  W.  D.  Davis,  of  Plymouth,  Mr. 
George  Riddle,  Mr.  Henry  M.  Rogers,  Mi\  Edes,  Mr.  EUerton  Pratt,  Mr. 
Arthur  Dodd,  Mr.  Alanson  Bigelow,  and  many  others  of  eminent  social, 
literaiy,  and  artistic  position.  William  Warren,  with  many  professionals, 
was  present,  while,  of  coui-se,  Mr.  Henry  E.  Abbey  and  his  staff,  as  well 
as  city  managers  and  theatre  folk,  were  represented.  Most  of  the  gentle- 
men who  attended  were  accompanied  by  ladies,  and  the  house,  as  seen 
from  the  stage,  presented  a  very  brilliant  appearance. —  The  Globe.       ;J50 


I 


i    I 


ill  ' 


m 

■■»'  i 

i'l-  Hi 


222 


IMPRESSIONS   OF  AMERICA. 


much  of  the  original  scenery  was  dispensed  with. 
Portions  of  the  sets,  indeed,  for  all  the  pieces  during 
the  week,  were  painted  on  the  spot  by  Mr.  Hall  (a 
clever  young  artist,  who  is  devoted  to  the  service  of 
Mr.  Irving),  and  Lyceum  draperies,  groupings,  dresses, 
and  stage  manipulation,  did  the  rest.  The  usual  or- 
chestra of  the  theatre  was  strengthened,  as  at  New 
York  and  Philadelphia,  and  the  conductor  had  the 
satisfaction  of  a  call  for  the  repetition  of  some  of  the 
entr'acte  music.  '  • 

Among  the  most  remarkable  tributes  to  Irving's 
genius  as  an  actor  are  the  critical  notices  that  appeared 
in  the  Boston  newspapers  the  next  day ;  and  the  people 
of  Boston  gave  practical  evidence  of  their  satisfaction 
by  attending  the  theatre  in  increasing  numbers  every 
night.  The  fortnight's  work  included,  besides  the 
opening  play,  "  The  Merchant  of  Venice,"  "  The  Lyons 
Mail,"  "  Charles  L,"  " The  Bells,"  "  The  Belle's  Strata- 
gem," and  "  Hamlet."  The  old  controversies  as  to  the 
characters  of  Hamlet  and  Shylock,  and  the  interpreta- 
tion of  them,  cropped  up  in  the  press,  and,  as  before, 
were  entirely  absent  from  the  audiences.  They  evi- 
dently had  no  doubts ;  they  showed  no  desire  to  dis- 
count their  pleasure  ;  they  found  themselves  wrapped  up 
in  the  stage  stories,  rejoicing,  sorrowing,  weeping, 
laughing,  with  the  varying  moods  of  poet  and  actor. 
They  did  not  stop  to  analyze  the  reasons  for  their  mo- 
tion ;  it  was  enough  for  them  that  they  followed  the 
fortunes  of  the  hero  and  heroine  with  absorbing  interest. 
They  had  no  preconceived  ideas  to  vindicate ;  they  were 
happy  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  highest  form  of  dramatic 


BOSTON  AND  SHYLOCK.  223 

entertainment  which  even  those  critics,  that  are  chary 
of  their  commendation  of  individual  artists,  say  Amer- 
ica has  ever  seen.  Said  "The  Boston  Herald,"  in  its 
notice  of  "  Hamlet " : —  , 

At  the  end  of  each  act  ho  received  one  or  more  calls 
before  the  curtain,  and  after  the  "play  scene"  the  demonstra- 
tions were  really  enthusiastic ;  shouts  of  "Bravo!"  mingling 
with  the  plaudits  that  summoned  him  to  the  foot-lights  again 
and  again.  Miss  Ellen  Terry  won  all  hearts  by  her  exquisite 
embodiment  of  Ophelia.  A  better  representative  of  this  lovely 
character  has  not  been,  and  is  not  likely  to  be,  seen  here  by 
the  present  generation  of  play-goers.  She  received  her  full 
share  of  the  honors  of  the  evening,  and  her  appearance  before 
the  curtain  was  often  demanded,  and  hailed  with  delight,  by 
the  large  audience  present. 

The  "Advertiser,"  "Traveller,"  "Globe,"  "Post,' 
—  indeed  all  the  Boston  daily  press,  — were  unanimous 
in  recognizing  the  merits  of  Irving  and  his  work.  The 
"  Transcript "  was  especially  eulogistic  in  its  treatment 
of  Hamlet.  As  a  rule  the  criticisms  were  written  with 
excellent  literary  point.  It  will  be  interesting  to 
give  two  brief  examples  of  this ;  one  from  the  "  Travel- 
ler":— 

Of  Mr.  Irving's  performance  of  the  part  we  can  truthfiilly 
say  that,  while  diflfering  almost  entirely  from  that  of  nearly 
every  actor  that  we  have  seen  in  Hamlet,  it  abounded  in 
beauties,  in  new  conceptions  of  business,  in  new  ideas  of 
situation.  It  was  scholarly  and  thoughtful,  princely  and 
dignified,  tender  yet  passionate,  revengeful  yet  human,  filial 
yet  manly.  The  Ophelia  of  Miss  Ellen  Terry  was  supremely 
delicious.  In  the  early  parts  it  was  artless  and  girlish,  yet 
womanly  withal.    It  was  sweet,  tender,  graceful,  loving,  and 


HI 


I 


224 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


lovable.  Asi  a  piece  of  acting,  it  was  "  stuflf'd  with  all  honor- 
able virtues."  It  was  very  powerful  in  the  naad  scene  in  the 
fourth  act,  and  yet  it  was  not  more  powerful  than  it  was  refined 
and  intellectual ;  and  while  it  may  be  looked  upon  in  every 
respect  as  a  perfect  piece  of  dramatic  art,  it  was  yet  faithful 
to  life  and  true  to  the  best  instincts  of  womanly  nature. 


.f< 


Aiid  another  from  the  **  Transcript" :  — 


Last  evening  we  found  ourselves  uncontrollably  forced  to 
admiration  and  enthusiasm.  He  manages  by  some  magic  to 
get  the  full  meaning  of  almost  every  sentence,  and  the  empha- 
sis always  falls  upon  the  right  word ;  withal,  he  has  this  great 
and  rare  merit,  that  whatever  he  says  does  not  sound  like  a 
speech  committed  to  memory  beforehand.  He  always  seems 
to  be  talking,  and  not  declaiming.  Ho  made  Hamlet  more  of 
a  convincing  reality  to  us  than  any  actor  we  can  remember. 
The  greatness,  the  intellectual  and  the  ethical  force,  above  all, 
the  charm  and  lovableness  of  the  man,  were  shown  as  we 
have  never  seen  them  before.  Miss  Terry's  Ophelia  is  a  reve- 
lation of  poetic  beauty.  Here  one  has  nothing  to  criticise,  no 
one  trait  to  praise  more  than  another.  Such  a  wonderful  em- 
bodiment of  the  poet's  conception  is  quickly  praised,  but  never 
to  be  forgotten. 


'/• 


J> 


iv: 


in. 


On  the  first  night  of  the  "Merchant  of  Venice"  at 
Boston,  Irving  played  Shylock,  I  think,  with  more 
than  ordinary  thoughtfulness  in  regard  to  his  original 
treatment  of  the  part.  His  New  York  method  was,  to 
me,  a  little  more  vigorous  than  his  London  rendering  of 
the  part.  Considerations  of  the  emphasis  which  actors 
have  laid  upon  certain  scenes  that  are  considered  as 
especially  favorable  to  the  declamatory  methods  possi- 


BOSTON  AND  8HTL0CK. 


225 


bly  influenced  him.  His  very  marked  success  in  Louis 
no  doubt  led  some  of  his  admirers  in  America  to  ex- 
pect in  his  Shy  lock  a  very  hard,  grim,  and  cruel 
Jew.  Many  persons  hinted  as  much  to  him  before 
they  saw  his  impersonation  of  this  much-discussed 
character.  At  Boston  I  thought  he  was,  if  possible, 
over-conscientious  in  traversing  the  lines  he  laid  down 
for  himself  when  he  first  decided  to  produce  the  "  Mer- 
chant" at  the  Lyceum.  Singularly  sensitive  about  the 
feelings  of  his  audiences,  and  accustomed  to  judge  them 
as  keenly  as  they  judge  him,  he  fancied  the  Boston 
audience,  which  had  been  very  enthusiastic  in  their 
applause  on  the  previous  nights,  were  not  stirred  as 
they  had  been  by  his  other  work  in  response  to  his 
efforts  as  Shylock.  The  play,  nevertheless,  was  re- 
ceived with  the  utmost  cordiality,  and  the  general 
representation  of  it  was  admirable.  I  found  a  Londoner 
in  front,  who  was  in  raptures  with  it.  **  I  think  the 
carnival,  Belmont,  and  court  scenes,"  he  said,  "were 
never  better  done  at  the  Lyceum." 

At  the  close  of  the  piece,  and  after  a  double  call 
for  Irving  and  Miss  Terry,  I  went  to  his  dressing- 
room,  i      .Vi,  v^ 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "the  play  has  gone  well,  very  well, 
indeed ;  but  the  audience  were  not  altogether  with  me. 
I  always  feel,  in  regard  to  this  play,  that  they  do  not 
quite  understand  what  I  am  doing.  They  only  re- 
sponded at  all  to-night  where  Shylock's  rage  and  mor- 
tification get  the  better  of  his  dignity." 

"  They  are  accustomed  to  have  the  part  of  Shylock 
strongly  declaimed ;  indeed,  all  the  English  Shy  locks, 


11 


ill " 

1;   ': 


226 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


as  well  as  American  representatives  of  the  part,  are 
very  demonstrative  in  it.  Phelps  was,  so  was  Ciiarles 
Kean ;  and  I  think  American  audiences  look  for  the 
declamatory  passages  in  Shylock,  to  compare  your 
rendering  of  them  with  the  readings  they  have  pre- 
viously heard.  You  omit  much  of  what  is  considered 
great  business  in  Shylock,  and  American  audiences 
are  probably  a  little  disappointed  that  your  view  of 
the  part  forbids  anything  like  what  may  be  called 
the  strident  characteristics  of  most  other  Shy  locks. 
Charles  Kean  ranted  considerably  in  Shylock,  and 
Phelps  was  decidedly  noisy,  —  both  fine,  no  doubt,  in 
their  way.  Nevertheless  they  made  the  Jew  a  cruel 
butcher  of  a  Jew.  They  filled  the  stage  with  his  sor- 
did greed  and  malignant  desire  for  vengeance  on  the 
Christian,  from  his  first  entrance  to  his  final  exit." 

"I  never  saw  Kean's  Shylock,  nor  Phelps's,  nor,  in- 
deed, any  one's.  But  I  am  sure  Shylock  was  not  a 
low  person ;  a  miser  and  usurer,  certainly,  but  a  very 
injured  man,  — at  least  he  thought  so.  I  felt  that  my 
audience  to-night  had  quite  a  different  opinion,  and  I 
once  wished  the  house  had  been  composed  entirely  of 
Jews.  I  would  like  to  play  Shylock  to  a  Jewish 
audience." 

Mr.  Warren,*  the  famous  Boston  comedian,  came 


1  As  the  position  which  Mr.  John  Gilbert  holds  in  New  York  is  akin  to 
that  which  the  elder  Fairen  held  in  London,  so  the  position  which  Mr. 
William  W^HiTen  occupies  in  Boston  is  akit:  to  that  which  Mr.  Buckstonc 
("  Bucky,"  as  his  particular  friends  called  him)  held  in  the  English 
metropolis.  Mr.  Wai'ven's  Dogbeny  and  Paul  Pry  are  among  the  pleas- 
antest  reminiscences  of  Boston  play-goers.  It  fell  to  Irving's  lot  to  meet 
Mr.  WaiTeu  ii'equeatly,  and  perhaps  no  actor  ever  received  greater  com- 


BOSTON  AND  8HYL0GK. 


227 


into  the  dressing-room  while  we  were  talking.  He 
has  been  a  favorite  here  for  thirty-six  years. 

"Not  so  long  in  one  place  as  Mr.  Howe,"  he  says, 
with  a  smile,  "  who  tells  me  he  was  a  member  of  the 
Haymarket  Company  for  forty  years." 

"You    know  Mr.   Toole  well?"  said  Mr.  Irving. 

"Yes,"  he  replied ;  "  it  was  a  pleasure  to  meet  him 
here." 

"  He  often  talks  of  you." 

"  k  am  glad  to  know  it,"  he  replied ;  "  I  want  to  tell 
you  how  delighted  I  have  been  to-night.  It  is  the 
"Merchant  of  Venice,"  for  the  first  time.  I  have 
never  seen  the  casket  scene  played  before,  nor  the 
last  act  for  twenty  years.  A  great  audience,  and  how 
thoroughly  they  enjoyed  the  piece  I  need  not  tell  you." 

"  I  don't  think  they  cared  for  me,"  said  Irving. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  am  sure  they  did,"  Mr.  Warren  replied, 
at  which  moment  an  usher  brought  Miss  Terry,  to  be 
introduced  to  him,  and  the  subject  dropped,  to  be  re- 
vived over  a  quiet  cigar  after  supper. 

"  I  look  on  Shy  lock,"  says  Irving,  in  response  to  an 
invitation  to  talk  about  his  work  in  that  direction,  "aa 
the  type  of  a  persecuted  race  ;  almost  the  only  gentle- 
man in  the  play,  and  most  ill-used.  He  is  a  merchant, 
who  trades  in  the  Rialto,  and  Bassanio  and  Antonio  are 


111 
IP 


pllments  from  two  veterans  of  his  craft  than  Irving  received  from  Gilbert 
and  Warren.  While  the  favorite  of  New  York  never  missed  an  Irving 
performance  at  the  Star  Theatre,  his  famous  contemporary  of  Boston  not 
only  attended  all  the  Lyceum  performances  at  Boston,  but  later,  when 
Irving  went  to  Chicago,  Mr.  Wan-en  paid  his  relatives  a  visit  in  the  west- 
ern city,  and  was  as  constant  an  attendant  at  Haverly's  during  the  Irviiig 
engagement  as  he  was  at  the  Boston  Theatre, 


228 


IMPEESSI0N8  OF  AMERICA. 


hot  ashamed  to  borrow  money  of  him,  nor  to  carry  off 
his  daughter.  The  position  of  liis  child  is,  more  or 
less,  a  key  to  his  own.  She  is  the  friend  of  Portia, 
Shylock  was  well-to-do  —  a  Bible-read  man,  as  his 
readiness  at  quotation  shows ;  and  there  is  nothing  in 
his  language,  at  any  time,  that  indicates  the  snuffling 
usurer  which  some  persons  regard  him,  and  certainly 
nothing  to  justify  the  use  the  early  actors  made  of  the 
part  for  the  low  comedian.  He  was  a  religious  Jew ; 
learned,  for  he  conducted  his  case  with  masterly 
«kilfulnes8,  and  his  speech  is  always  lofty,  and  full 
of  dignity.  Is  there  a  finer  language  in  Shakespeare 
than  Shylock's  defence  of  his  race  ?  *  Hath  not  a  Jew 
eyes ;  hath  not  a  Jew  hands,  organs,  dimensions, 
senses,  aifections,  passions ;  fed  with  the  same  food ; 
hurt  with  the  same  weapons ;  subject  to  the  same  dis- 
eases ;  healed  by  the  same  means  ;  warmed  and  cooled 
by  the  same  winter  and  summer,  as  a  Christian  is  ?  * 
As  to  the  manner  of  representing  Shylock,  take  the 
first  part  of  the  story ;  note  his  moods.  He  is,  to  begin 
with,  quiet,  dignified,  diplomatic ;  then  satirical ;  and 
next,  somewhat  light  and  airy  in  his  manner,  with  a 
touch  of  hypocrisy  in  it.  Shakespeare  does  not  indi- 
cate at  what  precise  moment  Shylock  conceives  the  idea 
of  the  bond ;  but  he  himself  tells  us  of  his  anxiety  to 
have  Antonio  on  the  hip. 


■  Mi. 


"  ♦  I  will  feed  fat  the  ancient  grudge  I  bear  him. 
He  hates  our  sacred  nation,  and  he  rails, 
Even  there  where  merchants  most  do  congregate, 
On  me,  my  bargains,  and  my  well- won  thrift, 
Which  he  calls  interest.'  ; 


■ij 


■i   BOSTON  AND  SHYLOCK.i 


229 


"  His  first  word  is  more  or  less  fawning ;  but  it  breaks 
out  into  reproach  and  satire  when  he  recalls  the  insults 
that  have  been  heaped  upon  him.  'Hath  a  dog 
money?' a,nd  so  on;  still  he  is  diplomatic,  for  he 
wants  to  make  reprisals  upon  Antonio :  *  Cursed  be 
my  tribe  if  I  forgive  him ! '  He  is  plausible,  even 
jocular.  He  speaks  of  iiis  bond  of  blood  as  a 
merry  sport.  Do  you  think  if  he  were  strident  or 
spiteful  in  his  manner  here,  loud  of  voice,  bitter, 
they  would  consent  to  sign  a  bond  having  in  it  such 
fatal  possibilities?  One  of  the  interesting  things  for 
an  actor  to  do  is  to  try  to  show  when  Shylock  is  in- 
spired with  the  idea  of  this  bargain,  and  to  work  out 
by  impersonation  the  Jew's  thought  in  his  actions.  My 
view  is,  that  from  the  moment  Antonio  turns  upon  him, 
declaring  he  is  'like  to  spit  upon  him  again,'  and  in- 
vites him  scornfully  to  lend  the  money,  not  as  to  his 
friend,  but  rather  to  his  enemy,  who,  if  he  break, 
he  may  with  better  force  exact  the  penalty,  —  from 
that  moment  I  imagine  Shylock  resolving  to  propose 
his  pound  of  flesh,  perhaps  without  any  hope  of  getting 
it.  Then  he  puts  on  that  hypocritical  show  of  pleas- 
antry which  so  far  deceives  them  as  to  elicit  from 
Antonio  the  remark  that  '  the  Hebrew  will  turn 
Christian ;  he  grows  kind.'  Well,  the  bond  is  to  be 
sealed,  and  when  next  we  meet  the  Jew  he  is  still 
brooding  over  his  wrongs,  and  there  is  in  his  words 
a  constant,  though  vague,  suggestion  of  a  desire 
for  revenge,  nothing  definite  or  planned,  but  a  con- 
tinual sense  of  undeserved  humiliation  and  persecu- 
tion:— .  '■■■•>■ 


tm 


230 


IMPBES8I0N8  OF  AMERICA. 


Vv 


"  » I  am  bid  forth  to  supper,  Jessica. 
Tliere  are  my  keys.     But  why  should  I  go? 
I  am  not  bid  for  love.    They  flatter  me ; 
But  yet  I'll  go  in  hate,  to  feed  upon 
The  prodigal  Christian.' 


»* 


"  But  one  would  have  to  write  a  book  to  go  into 
these  details,  and  tell  an  actor's  story  of  Shy- 
lock." 

"  We  are  not  writing  a  book  of  Shylock  now,  but 
only  chatting  about  your  purpose  and  intention  gen- 
erally in  presenting  to  the  public  what  is  literally  to 
them  a  new  Shylock,  and  answering,  perhaps,  a  few 
points  of  that  conservative  kind  of  criticism  which 
preaches  tradition  and  custom.  Come  to  the  next 
phase  of  Shylock's  character,  or,  let  us  say,  his  next 
dramatic  mood." 

"  Well,  we  get  at  it  in  the  street  scene  :  rage,  —  a 
confused  passion ;  a  passion  of  rage  and  disappoint- 
ment, never  so  confused  and  mixed ;  a  man  beside  him- 
self with  vexation  and  chagrin. 

"  •  My  daughter  I    Oh,  my  ducats !    Oh,  my  daughter  I 
Fled  with  a  Christian !     Oh,  my  Christian  ducats  I 
Justice  I  the  law  1  my  ducats  and  my  daughter  1 ' 

"I  saw  a  Jew  once,  in  Tunis,  tear  his  hair,  his  rai- 
ment, fling  himself  in  the  sand,  and  writhe  in  a  rage, 
about  a  question  of  money,  —  beside  himself  with 
passion.  I  saw  him  again,  self-possessed  and  fawning ; 
and  again,  expressing  real  gratitude  for  a  trifling 
money  courtesy.  He  was  never  undignified  until  he 
tore  at  his  hair  and  flung  himself  down,  and  then  he 


BOSTON  AND  SHYLOCK. 


231 


was  picturesque ;  he  was  old,  but  erect,  even  stately, 
and  full  of  resource,  and  as  he  walked  behind  his  team 
of  mules  he  carried  himself  with  the  lofty  air  of  a 
king.  He  was  a  Spanish  Jew,  —  Shylock  probably 
was  of  Frankfort ;  but  Shakespeare's  Jew  wj>s  a  type, 
not  a  mere  individual :  he  was  a  type  of  the  great, 
grand  race, — not  a  mere  Hounsditch  usurer.  He  was 
a  man  famous  on  the  Rialto  ;  probably  a  foremost  man 
in  his  synagogue ;  proud  of  his  descent ;  conscious  of 
his  moral  superiority  to  many  of  the  Christians  who 
scoffed  at  him,  and  fanatic  enough,  as  a  religionist,  to 
believe  that  his  vengeance  had  in  it  the  element  of  a 
godlike  justice.  Now,  you  say  that  some  of  my 
critics  evidently  look  for  more  fire  in  the  delivery  of 
the  speeches  to  Solanio,  and  I  have  heard  friends  say, 
that  John  Kemble  and  the  Keans  brought  down  the 
house  for  the  way  they  thundered  out  the  threats 
against  Antonio,  and  the  defence  of  the  Jewish  race. 
It  is  in  this  scene  that  we  realize,  for  the  first  time,  that 
Shylock  has  resolved  to  enforce  his  bond.  Three 
times,  during  a  very  short  speech,  he  says,  '  Let  him 
look  to  his  bond  I'  *  A  beggar  that  was  used  to  come 
so  smug  upon  the  mart ;  let  him  look  to  his  bond; 
he  was  wont  to  call  me  usurer ;  let  him  look  to  his 
bond;  he  was  wont  to  lend  money  for  a  Christian 
courtesy ;  let  him  look  to  his  bond  J*  Now^  even  an 
ordinary  man,  who  had  made  up  his  mind  to  'have 
the  heart  of  him  if  he  forfeit,'  would  not  shout  and 
rave  and  storm.  My  friend  at  Tunis  tore  his  hair  at 
a  trifling  disappointment ;  if  he  had  resolved  to  stab 
his  rival  he  would  have  muttered  his  intention  between 


V* 


232 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


his   teeth,    not  have   screeched   it.     How  much   less 
likely  still  would   this   bitterly  persecuted   Jew   mer- 
chant of  Venice  have  given  his   resolve   a  loud  and 
noisy  utterance  I     Would  not   his   settled   hate  have 
been  more  likely  to  show  itself  in  the  clinched  hand, 
the  firmly  planted  foot,  the  flashing  eye,  and  the  deep 
undertones  in  which  he  would  utter  the  closing  threat ; 
^Let  him  look  to  his  bond^f    I  think  so."     -.  f  <m.<«  & 
t    "And  so  do  the  most  thoughtful  among  your  audi- 
ences.    Now  and  then,  however,  a  critic  shows  himself 
so  deeply  concerned  for  what  is  called  tradition  that  he 
feels  it  incumbent  upon  him  to  protest  against  a  Shy- 
lock  who  is  not,  from  first  to  last,  a  transparent  an4 
noisy  ruffian."  •        ■'       '    '  ^     ;.....       .. ,.  v,^ 

"  Tradition  I  One  day  we  will  talk  of  that.  In 
Davenant's  time,  —  and  some  dare  to  say  he  got  his 
tradition  from  Shakespeare  himself  —  they  played 
Shy  lock  as  a  comic  character,  in  a  red  wig ;  and  to  make 
it,  as  they  thought,  consistent,  they  cut  out  the  noblest 
lines  the  author  had  put  into  his  mouth,  and  added  some 
of  their  own.  We  have  no  tradition  in  the  sense  that 
those  who  would  insist  upon  our  observance  of  it  means  ; 
what  we  have  is  bad,  —  Garrick  played  Othello  in  a 
red  coat  and  epaulettes ;  and  if  we  are  to  go  back  to 
Shakespeare's  days,  some  of  these  sticklers  for  so-called 
tradition  forget  that  the  women  were  played  by  boys. 
Shakespeare  did  the  best  he  could  in  his  day,  and  he 
would  do  the  best  he  could  if  he  were  living  now. 
Tradition  1  It  is  enough  to  make  one  sick  to  hear  the 
pretentious  nonsense  that  is  talked  about  the  stage  in 
the  name  of  tradition.     It  seems  to  me  that  there  are 


ti 

s] 


BOSTON  AND  SHYLOCK. 


233 


6  ways  of  representing  Shakespeare.  Ifou  have 
seen  David's  picture  of  Napoleon  and  that  by 
Delaroche.  The  first  is  a  heroic  figure,  —  head 
thrown  back,  arm  extended,  cloak  flying,  —  on  a 
white  horse  of  the  most  powerful,  but  unreal,  charac- 
ter, which  is  rearing  up  almost  upon  its  haunches,  its 
forelegs  pawing  the  air.  That  is  Napoleon  crossing 
the  Alps.  I  think  there  is  lightning  in  the  clouds.  It 
is  a  picture  calculated  to  terrify ;  a  something  so  un- 
earthly in  its  suggestion  of  physical  power  as  to  cut  it 
off  from  human  comprehension.  Now,  this  represents 
to  me  one  way  of  playing  Shakespeare.  The  other 
picture  is  still  the  same  subject,  'Napoleon  crossing 
the  Alps ' ;  but  in  this  one  we  see  a  reflective,  deep- 
browed  man,  enveloped  in  his  cloak,  and  sitting  upon 
a  sturdy  mule,  which,  with  a  sure  and  steady  foot,  is 
climbing  the  mountain,  led  by  a  peasant  guide.  This 
picture  represents  to  me  the  other  way  of  playing 
Shakespeare.  The  question  is,  which  is  right?  I 
think  the  truer  picture  is  the  right  cue  to  the  poet 
who  himself  described  the  actor's  art  as  to  hold,  as  it 
were,  the  mirror  up  to  nature." 

"  Which  should  bring  us  very  naturally  bac?  *o  Shy- 
lock.  Let  us  return  to  your  brief  dissertation  at  the 
point  where  he  is  meditating  vengeance  in  case  of  for- 
feiture of  the  bond." 

"  Well,  the  latest  mood  of  Shylock  dates  from  this 
time,  —  it  is  one  of  implacable  revenge.  Nothing 
shakes  him.  He  thanks  God  for  Antonio's  ill-luck. 
There  is  in  this  darkness  of  his  mind  a  tender  recoUec- 
lection  of  Leah.     And  then  the   calm  command  to 


234 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


Tubal,  *  Bespeak  me  an  officer/  What  is  a  little  odd 
is  his  request  that  Tubal  shall  meet  him  at  the  syna- 
gogue. It  might  be  that  Shakespeare  suggested  here 
the  idea  of  a  certain  sacredness  of  justice  in  Shy  lock's 
view  of  vengeance  on  Antonio.  Or  it  might  be  to 
accentuate  the  reHgious  character  of  the  Jew's  habits ; 
for  Shylock  was  assuredly  a  religious  Jew,  strict  in  his 
worship,  and  deeply  read  in  his  Bible,  —  no  small 
thing,  this  latter  knowledge,  in  those  days.  I  think 
this  idea  of  something  divine  in  his  act  of  vengeance 
is  the  key-note  to  the  trial-scene,  coupled,  of  course, 
with  the  intense  provocation  he  has  received. 

^  i  ■      "  *  Thou  calledst  me  dog  before  thou  hadst  a  cause;  ,  ]' 

But  since  I  am  a  dog,  beware  my  fangs  1 
The  duke  shall  grant  me  justice. 
■'        ....    Follow  not,  ' 

I'll  have  no  speaking ;  I  will  have  my  bond.'  ," 

"  These  are  the  words  of  a  man  of  fixed,  implacable 
purpose,  and  his  skilful  defence  of  it  shows  him  to  be 
wise  and  capable.  He  is  the  most  self-possessed  man 
in  the  court.  Even  the  duke,  in  the  judge's  seat,  is 
moved  by  the  situation.  What  does  he  say  to  An- 
tonio? 

"  '  I  am  sorry  for  thee ;  thou  art  come  to  answer 
A  stony  adversary.' 


"  Everything  indicates  a  stern,  firm,  persistent,  im- 
placable purpose,  which  in  all  our  experience  of  men 
is,  as  a  rule,  accompanied  by  an  apparently  calm  man- 


BOSTON  AND  SHYLOCK. 


235 


ner.  A  man's  passion  which  unpacks  itself  in  oaths 
and  threats,  which  stamps  and  swears  and  shouts,  may 
go  out  in  tears,  but  not  in  vengeance.  On  the  other 
hand,  there  are  those  who  argue  that  Antonio's  refer- 
ence to  his  own  patience  and  to  Shylock's  fury  impHes 
a  noisy  passion  on  the  part  of  the  Jew ;  but,  without 
taking  advantage  of  any  question  as  to  the  meaning 
of  'fury'  in  this  connection,  it  seems  to  me  that 
Shylock's  contempt  for  his  enemies,  his  sneer  at  Gra- 
tiano :  — 


"  *  Till  thou  canst  rail  the  seal  from  off  my  bond, 
Thou  but  offend'st  thy  lungs  to  speak  so  loud '  — 

and  his  action  throughout  the  court  scene,  quite  out- 
weigh any  argument  in  favor  of  a  very  demonstra- 
tive and  furious  representation  of  the  part.  '  I  stand 
here  for  law  1 '  Then  note  when  he  realizes  the  force 
of  the  technical  flaws  in  his  bond, — and  there  are 
lawyers  who  contend  the  law  was  severely  and  uncon- 
stitutionally strained  in  this  decision  of  the  court,  — he 
is  willing  to  take  his  bond  paid  thrice ;  he  cannot  get 
that,  he  asks  for  the  principal ;  when  that  is  refused  he 
loses  his  temper,  as  it  occurs  to  me,  for  the  first  time 
during  the  trial,  and  in  a  rage  exclaims,  '  Why,  then, 
the  devil  give  him  good  of  it  I '  There  is  a  peculiar 
and  special  touch  at  the  end  of  that  scene  which,  I 
think,  is  intended  to  mark  and  accentuate  the  crush- 
ing nature  of  the  blow  which  has  fallen  upon  him. 
When  Antonio  stipulates  that  Shylock  shall  become  a 
Christian,  and  record  a  deed  of  gift  to  Lorenzo,  the 
Jew  cannot  speak.     *  He  shall  do  this,*  says  the  duke, 


236 


IMPEE8SI0N3  OF  AMERICA. 


'  or  else  I  do  recant  the  pardon.*     Portia  turns   and 

questions  him.     He  is  hardly  able  to  utter  a  word.     *I 

am  content,'  is  all  he  says  ;  and  what  follows  is  as  plain 

an  instruction  as  was   ever  written  in  regard  to   the 

conduct  and  manner  of  the  Jew.     *  Clerk,  draw  a  deed 

of  gift,'  says  Portia.     Note  Shylock's  reply,  his  last 

words,  the  answer   of  the  defeated  litigant,  who  is 

utterly  crushed  and  borne  down :  —  "'''■'      'o 

-.ffiU  1;.  •*vvr;^i  cW.   /■'■''\:-y."t   :_       .    <      ;■-'.-        '  ,•■^.^r•f^•: 

*'  *I  pray  you  give  me  leave  to  go  from  hence;       .  .  ,, , ; > 

I  am  not  well ;  send  the  deed  after  me, 

And  I  will  sign  it.'  .    !'    • 

"  Is  it  possible  to  imagine  anything  more  helpless  than 
this  final  condition  of  the  Jew  ?  '  I  am  not  well ;  give 
me  leave  to  go  from  hence  I '  How  interesting  it  is  to 
think  this  out  I  and  how  much  we  all  learn  from  the 
actors  when,  to  the  best  of  their  ability,  they  give  the 
characters  they  assume  as  if  they  were  really,  present, 
working  out  their  studies,  in  their  own  way,  and  endow- 
ing them  with  the  characterization  of  their  own  indi- 
viduality !  It  is  cruel  to  insist  that  one  actor  shall 
simply  follow  in  the  footsteps  of  another ;  and  it  is 
unfair  to  judge  an  actor's  interpretation  of  a  character 
from  the  stand-point  of  another  actor ;  his  intention 
should  be  considered,  and  he  should  be  judged  from 
the  point  of  how  he  succeeds  or  fails  in  carrying  it  out.'* 


•-IftJ    i  1         ..      .    ;       - 

-'...•  J  J .  . . 

'■''■■•          ■    '   ■ 

.  ■  • .. 

..    ••-i    ,.-ii,i  ;ii 

.aiijl  tAi/'>   I. 

:...  -6  ->  ! 

*  i          .*     ,       '  ' 

•  .'; 

■  ':.ih  li    t\t:i 

li  i^iilv'ij:--   ...^■;'i-, 

:.;->'':  V;;--, . 

'.  '■*   ■■'.,.    ..;. 

.    ( 

*  •  t* ' 

■.;-.    i,A"n' 

. .)  fOicu';' ii^.!'.  ■. 

i  ■'}::>».}    •:;    i,!. 

'  :  M 

'    ,:'.y:li?':d') 

•  Aijib  ';^f'*  f--n..-- 

;<il:,b-H^ 

J,            ■  ,. 

* '  * 

:  ■'■rmz'j  v^jii 

-'    A  CITY  OF  SLEIOHS. 


237 


'  !-»■ 


m  ' 


?    •■-',, 


r  '       ■■ '    '•,.■ 

.'•  >ik''r 

;■'''    '   '       ■     :  -.-.'J  w:  •.-!..:.  ;   ■ 

.v.^'V/**-.' 

*' 

,/..  lU  v!i'M;'v 

JJ. 

.  ^..jrlr'il ., 

A  CITY  OF  SLEIGHS. 

^•!;  I,v>\»>7*->^ 

Snow  and  Sleigh  Bells  —  •'  Brooks  of  Sheffield  "  —  In  the  Boston  Suhnrbs 

—  Smokeless  Coal — At  the  Somerset  Club  —  Miss  Ellen  Terry  and  the 

Papyrus  —  A  Ladies*  Night  —  Club  Literature  —  Curious  Minutes  — 

♦'Greeting  to  Ellen  Terry"  — St.  Botolph  —  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes 

and  Charles  the  First —  "  Good-by  and  a  Merry  Christmas."      .  .  „ 


1   I 


"  A  TRANSFORMATION  scene,  indeed  I "  said  Irving. 
"Yesterday,  autumn  winds,  bright  streets,  a  rattle  of 
traffic — to-day,  snow  and  sleigh-bells  —  yesterday, 
wheels  —  to-day,  runners,  as  they  call  the  enormous 
skating-irons  upon  which  they  appear  to  have  placed 
every  vehicle  in  the  city.  I  have  just  returned  from  re- 
hearsal, and  find  everybody  sleighing.  The  omnibuses 
are  sleighs  —  the  grocer's  cart  is  a  sleigh  —  the  express- 
wagons  are  sleighs  ;  it  is  a  city  of  sleighs  !  The  snow 
began  to  fall  in  earnest  yesterday.  Last  night  it  must 
have  been  a  foot  deep.  It  would  have  ruined  the  busi- 
ness at  a  London  theatre.  Here  it  made  no  difference. 
We  had  a  splendid  house." 

"  As  I  walked  to  my  hotel  at  midnight,"  I  replied, 
"  snow-ploughs  were  in  the  streets  clearing  the  roads 
and  scouring  the  car-tracks.  Boston  tackles  the  enow 
in  earnest.  The  trees  on  the  Common  were  a  marvel 
of  beauty.  They  looked  like  an  orchard  of  the  Hes- 
perides,  all  in  blossom,  and  the  electric  lamps  added 
to  the  fairy-like  beauty  of  the  scene." 


:M    K.  -r  - 


238 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


**  A  lovely  city.     Shall  we  take  a  sleigh-ride  ?  " 

" '  Why,  certainly,'  as  they  say  in  '  The  Colonel,'  but 
rarely  in  America." 

Irving  rings  for  his  colored  attendant.  He  has  dis- 
covered that  his  surname  is  Brooks,  and  takes  a  curious 
pleasiu*e  in  addressing  him  as  Brooks,  sometimes  as 
"Brooks,  of  Sheffield!"  ■      ' 

-.  "Order  me  a  sleigh.  Brooks  I" 
•    "Yes,  sah,"  says  Brooks,  grinning. 

"  Two  horses,  Brooks  !  " 

"Yes,  sah,"  says  the  attendant,  preparing  to  go,  not 
hurriedly,  for  who  ever  saw  a  colored  gentleman  (they 
are  all  colored  gentlemen)  in  a  hurry? 
.   "  And  take  my  rugs  down  1  " 

"Yes,  sah,"  he  says,  marching  slowly  into  the  next 
room  for  the  rugs. 

"And,  Brooks  — " 

"  Yes,  sah." 

"  Would  you  like  to  go  to  the  theatre  one  night  ?  " 
.  "Berry  much,  sah — yes,  sah." 

"  What  play  would  you  like  to  see  ?  '* 
- !  "  Hamlet,  sah  I " 

"Hamlet  I     Very  gotu.     Is  there  a  Mrs.  Brooks?" 

"  'Deed  there  is,  sah,"  answers  the  darkey,  grinning 
from  ear  to  ear. 

"  And  some  little  Brookses  —  of  Sheffield  ?  " 

"Yes,  sah;  not  ob  Sheffield,  ob  Boston."  # 

i    "That's  all  right.     Mr.  Stoker  shall  give  all  of  you 
seats.     See  if  he  is  in  the  hotel." 

"Yes,  sah."  -...--        .     .^  ^     .  ,       ■:   ::::   .    •.  h^M 

As  he  stalks  to  the   door  Stoker  comes   bounding: 


A  CITY  OF  SLEians. 


239 


H  t 


'') 


I    i.v' 


in  (Stoker  is  always  on  the  run) ,  to  the  discomfiture  of 
Brooks  and  his  load  of  rugs. 

Brooks  picks  himself  up  with  dignity.  Stoker  assures 
his  chief  that  there  is  not  a  seat  in  the  house  for  any- 
body. V 

"  Then  buy  some  for  Brooks,"  says  Irving. 

"  Where  ?  "  asks  Stoker,  in  amazement. 

"Anywhere,"  says  Irving,  adding,  with  a  significant 
glance  at  me,  —  "  from  the  speculators." 

"Oh,  very  well,  if  you  wish  it,"  says  Stoker. 

"  And,  Brooks  "  —  .    ; 

"Yes,  sah." 

"  Anybody  else  in  the  hotel  like  to  go  ?  ** 

"Oh,  yes,  indeed,  sah  I "  says  Brooks — ^**de  cook,  sah." 

"And  what  play  would  the  cook  like  to  see?  " 

"Hamlet,  sah." 

"  You've  been  paid  to  say  this  I "  says  Irving,  quot- 
ing from  Louis.     "  Who  bade  you  do  it? " 

But  this  was  only  whispered  in  a  humorous  "aside" 
for  me,  who  know  how  much  he  likes  Hamlet,  and 
how  much  he  likes  other  people  to  like  Hamlet. 

At  the  door  of  the  Brunswick  we  find  a  sleigh, 
pair  of  horses,  smart-looking  driver,  a  heap  of  rugs 
and  furs,  under  which  we  ensconce  ourselves.  The 
weather  is  bitterly  cold,  the  sky  blue ;  the  windows 
of  the  houses  in  the  fine  streets  of  the  Back  Bay  dis- 
trict flash  icily ;  the  air  is  sharp,  and  the  sleigh-bells 
ring  out  aggressively  as  the  horses  go  away. 

The  snow  is  too  deep  for  rapid  sleighing ;  there  has 
been  no  time  for  it  solidify.  It  is  white  and  pure  as 
it  has  fallen,  and  when  we  get  out  into  the  suburbs 


240 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


it  is  dazzling  to  the  eyes,  almost  painful.  Crossing 
the  Charles  river  the  scene  is  singularly  picturesque : 
a  cumbersome  old  barge  in  the  foregrouii.l ;  on  the 
opposite  shore  a  long  stretch  of  red-brick  buildings, 
vanishing  at  the  point  where  the  heights  of  Brookline 
climb  away,  in  white  and  green  and  grey  undulations, 
to  the  bright  blue  sky.  As  we  enter  Cambridge  there 
are  fir-trees  growing  out  ©f  the  snow,  their  sombre 
greens  all  the  darker  for  the  white  weight  that  bows 
their  branches  down  to  the  drifts  that  wrap  their  trunks 
high  up ;  for  here  and  there  the  snow  has  drifted  until 
there  are  banks  of  it  five  and  six  feet  deep. 

"  Very  pretty,  these  vUlas  ;  nearly  all  wood,  —  do 
you  notice?  —  very  comfortable,  I  am  sure  ;  lined  with 
brick,  I  am  told,  some  of  them.  Nearly  all  have  bal- 
conies or  verandas ;  and  there  are  trees  and  gardens 
everywhere,  —  must  be  lovely  in  summer ;  good  enough 
now,  for  that  matter.  One  thing  makes  them  look  a 
trifle  lonely,  —  no  smoke  coming  from  the  chimneys. 
They  burn  anthracite  coal,  —  good  for  this  atmosphere, 
—  excellent  and  clean ;  but  how  a  bit  of  blue  smoke 
curling  up  among  the  trees  finishes  and  gives  poetry  to 
a  landscape,  —  suggests  home  and  cosey  firesides,  eh?'* 

"  Yes.  New  York  owes  some  of  its  clear  atmosphere 
to  its  smokeless  coal."  ;•    , .  .s  i     i       ■'..,;,,' 

"  What  a  pity  we  don't  have  it  in  London  I  Only 
fancy  a  smokeless  London,  — what  a  lovely  city  I  "  i-i\ 

"  It  may  come  about  one  day,  either  by  the  adoption 
of  smokeless  coal  or  the  interposition  of  the  electrician. 
Last  summer  I  spent  some  time  in  the  Swansea  Val- 
ley, England,  not  far  from  Craig-y-nos,  the  British 


A  CITY  OF  SLEIOnS. 


241 


home  of  Patti.  One  day  I  suddenly  noticed  that  there 
was  no  smoke  over  the  villages  ;  none  at  some  local  iron- 
works, except  occasional  bursts  of  white  steam  from  the 
engine-houses  ;  nothing  to  blemish  the  lovely  sky  that 
just  slightly  touched  the  mountain-tops  with  a  grey  mist. 
I  was  near  Ynysccdwyn,  the  famous  smokeless-coal  dis- 
trict of  South  Wales.  London  need  not  burn  another 
ounce  of  bituminous  coal ;  there  is  enough  anthracite 
in  Wales  to  supply  all  England  for  a  thousand  years." 

"  What  a  blessing  it  would  be  if  London  were  to  use 
nothing  else  I " 

Through  Cambridge,  so  intimately  associated  with 
Longfellow,  past  its  famous  colleges,  we  skirted 
Brookline,  and  returned  to  our  head-quarters  in  Clar- 
endon street,  meeting  on  the  way  many  stylish  sleighs 
and  gay  driving-parties. 

On  another  day  Irving  took  luncheon  with  a  little 
party  of  undergraduates  in  Common  hall,  was  received 
by  the  President  of  the  college,  inspected  the  gym- 
nasium, saw  the  theatre,  and  had  long  talks  with 
several  of  the  professors. 

Perhaps  from  a  literary  and  artistic  stand-point  the 
most  interesting  social  event  among  the  many  entertain- 
ments given  to  Irving  was  a  dinner  given  by  Mr. 
Charles  Fairchild  and  Mr.  James  R.  Osgood,  at  the 
Somerset  Club.  The  company  included  Messrs.  T.  B. 
Aldrich,  A.  V.  S.  Anthony,  Francis  Bartlett,  William 
Bliss,  George  Baty  Blake,  S.  L.  Clemens  ("Mark 
Twain"),  T.  L.  Higginson,  W.  D.  Howells,  Laurence 
Hutton,  W.  M.  Laffan,  Francis  A.  Walker,  George 
E.  Warinor,  and  William  Warren.     After   dinner   the 


24£  IMPRESSIONS   OF  AMERICA.      . 

conversation  was  quite  as  brilliant  as  the  company. 
Mark  Twain  told  some  of  his  best  stories  in  his  best 
manner.  Mr.  Howells  and  Mr.  Aldrich  in  no  wise  fell 
short  of  their  reputations  as  conversationalists.  There 
were  no  drinking  of  toasts,  no  formal  speeches,  which 
enhanced  the  general  joy  of  the  whole  company. 

Driving  homewards  along  the  Common,  Irving  said, 
"  By  gas-light,  and  in  the  snow,  is  not  this  a  little  like 
the  Green  park,  with,  yonder,  the  clock-tower  of  the 
Houses  of  Parliament?" 

"  Do  you  wish  it  were  ?  " 

"I  wouldn't  mind  it  for  an  hour  or  two,  eh? 
Although  one  really  sometimes  hardly  feels  that  one 
is  out  of  London." 


II. 

"Ladies'  Night.  —  The  Papyrus  Club  request  the 
pleasure  of  the  company  of  Miss  Ellen  Terry  at  the 
Revere  House,  December  15th,  at  six  o'clock.  Boston, 
1883.  Please  reply  to  J.  T.  Wheelwright,  39  Court 
street." ^ 

*  Ladies'  Night  at  the  Papyuus.  —  The  Ladies'  Nijrht  entei-tain- 
ment  of  the  Papyrus  Chib,  which  has  come  lo  be  accepted  as  one  of  the 
annual  features  of  that  organization,  took  place  at  the  Revere  House  last 
night,  and  the  occasion  proved  to  be  one  of  exceptional  interest  and  brill- 
iancy. The  Papyrus  includes  in  its  membership  a  large  number  of  clever 
men,  and,  with  their  guests  who  assembled  last  evening  to  partake  of 
the  club's  hospitality,  the  compan)'  made  up  a  most  delightful  and  distin- 
guished gathering.  The  after-dinner  exercises,  which  were  not  per- 
mitted to  be  reported  in  full,  were  of  a  most  entertaining  character; 
the  speeches  of  the  distinguished  gentlemen  guests,  and  the  contribu- 
tions in  prose  and  verse  by  some  of  the  members  of  the  club,  being  veiy 
brl;"ht  and  enjoyable.  The  members  and  their  guests  assembled  in  the 
hotel  parlors  at  six  o'clock,  where  they  were  received  by  the  president 


A  CITY  OF  SLEIGHS. 


243 


Thus  ran  the  invitation,  which  was  adorned  with  a 
miniature  view  of  the  Pyramids  in  a  decorative  setting 
of  the  reed  that  is  familiar  to  travellers  in  the  Nile 
valley. 

of  the  club,  Ml".  George  F.  Babbitt,  assisted  by  Miss  Fay.  Music  was 
furnished  by  the  Germaaia  Orchestra,  and,  after  an  hour  spent  in  introduc- 
tory ceremonies,  the  members  and  their  guests,  niimbering  altogether  one 
hundred  and  twenty  ladies  and  gentlemen,  proceeded  to  the  dining-hall 
and  sat  down  to  the  dinner-table,  which  was  arranged  in  horseshoe  form. 
The  tables  were  artistically  decorated  with  flowers,  and  at  each  plate  was 
placed  a  dinner-card,  bearing  the  name  of  each  guest,  and  a  menu  of  an 
exceedingly  artistic  design,  the  front  cover  bearing  a  photograph  of 
the  club  paraphernalia,  very  cleverly  grouped,  and  bearing  the  inscription : 
"Papyrus,  Ladies'  Night.  December  15th,  MDCCCLXXXIII."  Presi- 
dent Babbitt  sat  in  the  centre,  with  Miss  Fay  at  his  right  and  Miss  Ellen 
Teny  at  his  left.  On  either  side  of  the  president  were  seated  Miss  Alcott, 
Mr.  Joseph  Hatton,  Dr.  Burnett  and  Mrs.  Frances  Hodgson  Burnett,  Gen. 
Francis  A.  Walker  and  Mrs.  Walker,  Mr.  Henry  'Oabot  Lodge,  Captain 
Story,  U.S.A. ;  Mr.  Guy  Carlcton,  of  New  York,  editor  of  «'  Life,"  and 
Mr.  J.  A.  Mitchell,  assistant  editor;  Rev.  and  Mrs.  Brooke  Hereford,  Dr. 
John  G.Blake  and  Mrs.  Blake,  ilr.  W.  IL  Ridcing  and  Mrs.  John  Lillie, 
the  author  of  "  Prudence,"  and  Rev.  and  Mrs.  II.  B.  Carpenter.  Among 
the  other  members  and  guests  present  were  Miss  Nora  Perry  and  Miss 
Noble,  the  author  of  "  A  Reverend  Idol " ;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robert  Grant, 
Mr.  F.  J.  Stimson,  the  author  of  "Guerndale,"  and  Mrs.  Stimson;  Dr. 
Harold  AVilliams,  the  author  of  "  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Morton";  Mr.  Arthur 
Rotch  and  Mrs.  Van  Ilenssellaer,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  W.  F.  Apthoi*p,  Mr.  A.  II. 
Dodd,  Mrs.  Dodd,  and  Miss  Dodd ;  Mr.  Henry  M.  Rogei-s  and  Mr.  George 
Abbot  James ;  Miss  Gage,  Mr.  and  Mi's.  Howard  ^I.  Ticknor,  and  Mrs. 
S.  A.  Bigelow;  Mrs.  C.  H.  Washburne,  Mr.  George  Sucll,  Mrs.  Bacon, 
and  Mi's.  Charles  Whitmorc ;  Mr.  Alexander  Young,  Mr.  George  Roberts, 
Mr.  John  T.  Wheelwright,  Mr.  L.  S.  Ipscn,  Mr.  Alexander  Browne  and 
Miss  Edmundson,  Mr.  Frank  Hill  Smith,  and  Mrs,  Henry  Fay;  Mr.  Arlo 
Bates,  Dr.  and  Mrs.  James  Chadwick,  Colonel  Theodore  A.  Dodge,  and 
Mrs.  Crowninsliicld ;  Mr.  and  Mi*s.  F.  P.Vinton,  Mr  Francis  Peabody, 
Jr. ;  Mr.  Russell  Sullivan,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Charles  Albert  Prince,  Miss 
Minot,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gordon  Prince,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  F.  V.  Parker,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  E.  L.  Osgood,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  M.  Towle,  Mr.  II.  G.  Pickering, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  W.  II.  Sayward,  and  Mrs.  R.  G.  Sliaw;  Mr.  T.  O.  Langcr- 
felt.'Mr.  and  Mrs.  Arthur  Foote,  Mr.  Sigourncy  Butler,  Miss  Butler,  and 
Miss  Shiminin ;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  R.  G.  Fitch,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  B.  Good- 
win, Mr.  W.  B.  Clarke,  Mr.  and  Mra.  C.  A.  Campbell,  Mr.  G.  W.  Chad- 


244  IMPBES8I0NS  OF  AMERICA. 

Miss  Terry  concluded  to  accept,  and  I  had  the  honor 
of  being  her  escort.  The  handsome  rooms  of  the 
Revere  House  that  were  devoted  to  the  service  of  the 
club   on   this  occasion  were  crowded  with  ladies  and 

wick,  Mr.  Preston,  Mr.  and  Mi-8.  F.  E.  "Wright,  Mrs.  G.  A.  Gibson,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  L.  L.  Scaife,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.  E.  Woods.  At  the  conclusion 
of  the  dinner  the  president  proposed  the  health  of  the  assembled  company 
in  the  loving-cup,  in  accordance  with  a  time-honored  custom  of  the 
Papyrus,  the  cup  passing  from  guest  to  guest  until  it  had  made  the  rounds 
of  the  tables.  Many  of  the  gentlemen  were  memly  cheered  as  they  rose 
to  drink  from  the  cup,  as  were  many  of  the  distinguished  ladies,  who, 
without  I'ising,  simply  touched  the  cup  to  their  lips.  After  this  interesting 
ceremony  had  been  gone  through  with,  the  president  welcomed  the  com- 
pany in  a  brief  speech,  concluding  with  a  toast  to  Ae  lady  guests,  which 
was  drunk  standing  by  the  gentlemen  present.  Rev.  II.  Bernard  Carpenter 
was  called  upon  to  respond  to  the  toast,  which  he  did  in  a  neat  speech,  in 
which  pleasant  allusions  were  made  to  the  distinguished  ladies  of  the  com- 
pany and  their  work.  He  was  followed  by  Mr.  John  T.  Wheelwright,  the 
secretary  of  the  club,  who  gave  o,  very  bright  burlesque  report  of  the 
proceedings  of  the  monthly  Papyrus  meetings.  It  was  made  up  of  clever 
imitations  of  the  poetic  and  prose  contributions  of  the  more  active  mem- 
bers of  the  Papyrus,  and  its  numerous  hits  were  received  with  shouts  of 
laughter.  Mr.  T.  R.  Sullivan  then  read  a  charming  hit  of  prose ;  and  then 
came  a  bright  and  humorous  contribution  from  Mr.  Robert  (Jrant,  who 
described,  in  a  very  funny  way,  his  experiences  as  a  member  of  the  com- 
mittee on  ladies'  night  some  years  ago.  It  abounded  in  witty  allusions  to 
the  antics  of  some  of  the  members  of  the  club,  and,  although  the  names 
of  the  characters  who  figured  in  the  sketch  were  assumed  for  the  occasion, 
the  references  to  the  members  of  the  club  were  readily  recognized.  Mr. 
Howard  M.  Tickuor  was  then  introduced,  and  read  a  poem  addressed  to 
Miss  Terry,  concluding  with  a  toast  in  honor  of  the  distinguished  lady, 
the  mention  of  whose  name  elicited  enthusiastic  applause.  Mr.  Joseph 
Hatton  responded  handsomely  for  Miss  Terry,  thanking  the  company  for 
their  very  cordial  welcome,  and  the  Papyrus  for  their  elegant  hospitality. 
Mr.  Arlo  Bates  read  some  very  pretty  songs,  and  Mr.  Guy  Carleton 
responded  to  a  toast  in  honor  of  "  Life,"  the  clever  New  York  paper.  Mr. 
W.  II  Sayward  gave  one  of  his  excellent  imitations,  and  the  entertainment 
concluded  with  the  performance  of  "  a  burlesque  operatic  monodrama," 
entitled  "  Titi."  The  sole  dramatis  persona,  Titi,  wao  assumed  by  Mr. 
W  m.  F.  Apthorp,  who  sang  and  recited  the  monodrama  in  costume,  being 
accompanied  on  the  piano  by  Mr.  Arthur  Foote.  The  performance  of  this 
bright  musical  composition  occupied  nearly  half  an  hour,  and  it  was  acted 


'• 


A  CITY  OF  SLEIGHS, 


245 


gentlemen  when  we  arrived.  Among  the  guests  in 
whom  Miss  Terry  was  especially  interested  were  Mrs. 
Burnett,  the  author  of  "  Joan "  and  other  remarkable 
novels  ;  Miss  Noble ,» the  author  of  "  A  Eeverend  Idol " ; 
Miss  Fay,  Mrs.  John  Lillie,  Mrs.  Washburne,  and 
other  ladies  known  to  the  world  of  letters.  She  was 
surrounded  for  a  long  time  by  changing  groups  of 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  who  were  presented  in  a  pleas- 
ant, informal  way  by  Mr.  Babbitt,  the  president  of  the 
club,  and  other  of  its  officers.  ,  <.  : 

The  dinner  was  a  dainty  repast  (one  of  the  special 
dishes  was  a  "baked  English  turbot  with  brown  sauce.") 
The  details  of  it  were  printed  upon  a  photographic 
card  which  represented  the  loving-cup,  punch-bowl, 
Papyrus'  manuscripts,  gavel,  pen  and  ink,  and  treasure- 
box  of  the  institution. 

During  dinner  Miss  Terry  was  called  upon  to  sign 
scores  of  the  menu  cards  with  her  autograph.  Upon 
many  of  them  she  scribbled  poetic  couplets,  Shake- 
spearian and  otherwise,  and  on  others  quaint,  appropriate 
lines  of  her  own.  She  captivated  the  women,  all  of  them. 
It  is  easier  for  a  clever  woman  to  excite  the  admiration 
of  her  sex  in  America  than  in  England.  A  woman  who 
adorns  and  lifts  the  feminine  intellect  into  notice  in 
America  excites  the  admiration  rather  than  the  jealousy 
of  her  sisters.     American  women  seem  to  make  a  higher 


and  sung  by  Mr.  Apthorp  with  exquisite  chic  and  drollery,  serving  as  a 
fitting  finale  to  the  very  pleasant  aftcr-diuacr  entertainnfent.  The  company 
arose  from  the  tables  at  about  half-past  ten  o'clock,  and  soon  after 
separated,  many  of  the  gentlemen  going  to  the  St.  Botolph  Club  reception 
to  Mr.  Irving,  Avhich  was  appointed  for  eleven  o'clock.  —  Botton  Satur- 
day Evening  OazetU. 


246  IMPItESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 

claims  upon  the  respect  and  attention  of  men  than  be- 
longs to  the  ambitious  English  women,  and  when  one 
of  them  rises  to  distinction  they  all  go  up  with  her. 
They  share  in  her  fame  ;  they  do  not  try  to  dispossess 
her  of  the  lofty  place  upon  which  she  stands.  There  is 
a  sort  of  trades-unionism  among  the  women  of  America 
in  this  respect.  They  hold  together  in  a  ring  against 
the  so-called  lords  of  creation  ;  and  the  men  are  content 
to  accept  what  appears  to  be  a  happy  form  of  petticoat 
government.  So  the  women  of  Boston  took  Ellen 
Terry  to  their  arms  and  made  much  of  her. 

After  dinner  the  President  expressed,  in  quaint  terms, 
the  club's  welcome  of  its  guests,  and  the  Secretary 
read  the  following  official  and  authorized 


1 , 


REPORT   OF   THE   LAST   MEETING. 

Scene.  —  The  Banqueting  Hall  of  the  Papyrus  Club.  The 
members,  reclining  in  the  Roman  fashion,  sip  the  cool  Falernian 
frotn  richly -chased  paterce,  while  the  noiseless  attendants  re- 
move the  wild  Etrusian  boar  (the  only  one  in  the  club) .  The 
President  raps  sharply  upoji  the  table  with  his  gavel. 

Spurius  Lartius  (a  provincial  guest  from  a  hamlet  called 
New  York) .  —  Truly,  Marcenas,  the  ruler  of  the  feast  is  a 
goodly  youth ;  a  barbarian  by  his  golden  beard,  I  ween. 

Marcexas  (a  literary  member  of  the  club,  who  derives  his 
income,  in  whole  or  in  part,  from  the  fact  that  his  father  is 
working.)  —  "Non  Anglus  sed  Angelas."  Perhaps,  someday. 
But,  mark,  he  is  calling  upon  a  player  for  a  speech,  one  of  a 
strolling^  band  which  hath  of  late  amused  the  town. 

Spurius  Lartius.  —  Me  herculi.  'Tis  Wyndham.  I  have 
seen  him  oft  in  Terence's  comedy,  *'  Pink  Dominoes." 

Wyndham  arises,  pulls  down  his  tunic,  and  makes  a  neat 
speech.     (Cheers  and  applause.) 

The  President.  —  Gentlemen,  we  have  among  us  to-night 


. 


\ 


A  CITY  OF  SLEIGHS. 


247 


(  I 


an  inspired  Prophet ;  the  Chronicler  of  the  Gospels  according 
to  St.  Benjamin. 

The  Prophet  arises,  takes  a  stone  tablet  from  his  waistcoat- 
pocket,  and  reads 

The  Gospel  according  to  St.  Benjamin. 

CllAPTEU    XIV. 

1.  And  lo !  it  was  tlie  fall  of  the  year,  and  the  greatest  fall 
was  that  of  Bienjamin. 

2.  And  his  lyre  was  hushed. 

3.  Yet  he  stretched  his  hand  out  unto  the  people  and  cried, 
"  Lo,  I  like  this!  I  would  rather  be  put  under  the  people, 
having  the  suffrages  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand,  than  bo 
put  over  them  with  the  suffrages  of  a  hundred  and  thirty-five 
thousand. 

4.  And  the  people  smote  their  knees  and  laughed,  and  cried 
"If  thou  likest  it,  Benjamin,  so  we  do,  also.  Go  to,  and 
write  a  Thanksgiving  proclamation." 

5.  And  he  did. 

{The  stone  tablet  falls  upon  a  finger-boivl  with  a  crash,  and 
the  club  votes  that  the  Chronicles  be  printed  at  the  Prophet's 
expense.) 

Spurius  Lartius.  —  But  who  is  this  man,  that  arises  with 

flashing  eye  and  curling  Yip  ?    Mayhap  lie  is  a  Kelt. 

Marcenas.  —  He  is  a  Kelt,  from  Keltville,  and  a  poet  to 
boot. 

The  Poet  arises  and  reads 


A  BUNCH  OF  ROSES. 

Sweet  rose !    In  thee  the  summer  bides ; 
Thy  deep,  red  breast  a  secret  hides, 
Which  none  may  know  but  only  she 
Whose  eyes  are  stars  lit  up  for  me. 

Red  rose  !  Unto  her  sweetly  speak, 
And  glow  against  her  burning  cheek; 
Ah  !  breathe  this  in  her  sliell-like  car,  — 
"Thou  makest  it  summer  all  the  year." 

Spurius  Lartius.  —  I  should  imagine  the  rose  to  be  a  waiter, 
from  the  instruction  to  "  breathe  in  her  shell-like  ear." 


II., 


248  IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 

Poet.  —  A  moment.  There  is  :\^ third  stanza  to  this  poem, 
written  on  receiving  the  florist's  bill :  — 

Great  Scott  I    List  to  my  heart's  dull  thud  I  '    ' 

Thou  hast  a  dollar  cost  a  bud. 
She  is  now  my  rival's  bride ; 
Again  I'll  wear  that  ulster  tried. 

The  President.  — And  now  the  gentleman  at  the  end  of  the 
long  table  will  tell  one  of  his  inimitable  anecdotes. 

The  Gentleman  at  the  End  of  the  Long  Table. — 
Trade  is  so  dull  now  that  the  anecdote  market  is  overstocked. 
The  boil-mot  and  jest  mills  are  rolling  up  their  products ;  but 
middlemen  are  cautious,  and  consumers  wary.  The  stock  of 
last  year's  •*  chestnuts  "  ^  is  being  worked  ofl*;  and  I  have  one,  a 
little  shop-worn,  which  I  have  dusted  for  the  occasion :  — 

77ie  Fable  of  the  Inquisitive  old  Broker  and  the  Queer  Bundle. 

An  inquisitive  old  broker  noticed  a  queer  bundle  upon  the 
lap  of  a  man  sitting  opposite  him  in  the  horse-car.  lie  looked 
at  the  bundle,  in  wonder  as  to  what  it  might  contain,  for  some 
minutes ;  finally,  overmastered  by  curiosity,  he  inquired :  — 

"  Excuse  me,  sir ;  but  would  you  mind  telling  me  what  is  in 
that  extraordinary  bundle?" 

"Certainly;  a  mongoose,"  replied  the  man,  who  was  read- 
ing "  Don't,"  and  learning  how  to  be  a  real,  true  gentleman. 

•'All,  indeed!"  ejaculated  the  broker,  with  mislacked  curi- 
osity.    .  .  .     "  But  what  is  a  mongoose,  pray?" 

'♦  Something  to  kill  snakes  with." 

"But  why  do  you  wish  to  kill  snakes  with  a  mongoose?" 
asked  the  broker. 

"My  brother  has  the  delirum  tremens  and  sees  snakes  all  the 
time.     I  am  going  to  fix  'em." 

"  But,  my  dear  sir,  the  snakes  which  your  brother  sees  in  his 
delirium  are  not  real  snakes,  but  the  figments  of  his  diseased 
imagination,  —  not  real  snakes,  sir!  " 

"Well !  this  is  not  a  real  mongoose."  —  Moral.  Ask  me  no 
qiicstions,  and  I'll  tell  you  no  lies. 

Spurius  Lautius.  —  I  always  liked  that  story.  My  father 
used  to  tell  it.  ^  —       •  ■      r 

^  In  America  "  chestnut"  is  a  slang  phrase  for  an  old  story. 


' 


A  CITY  OF  SLEIGHS. 


249 


Marcenas.  — Hush,  Spurius;  the  club  Vers  de  societk  writer 
is  about  to  favor  us. 

The  Club  Vers  de  SociiSTi;  Writer.  —  I  have,  in  my 
pocket,  some  dainty  verses.  I  have  long  written  rondeaux,  trio- 
lets, ai)d  pantouns. 

I  have,  however,  lately  invented  two  new  metres. 

The  first  is  called  a  "  cabriolet,"  and  the  other  is  a  combina- 
tion of  a  pantoun  and  a  triolet,  called  a  pantalet. 

I  will  read  them  to  you  if  you  will  be  very,  very  still,  for 
they  are  as  delicate  as  porcelain :  — 

A  BRITON'S  WAIL  IN  NEW  YORK  CITY. 


I 


(^A  Cabriolet.") 

I  hired  me  a  hack, 
I  cried  out  "Alack I" 
I  must  dine  upon  bread ; 
I  gave  up  my  purse. 
Never  ride  in  a  hack 
Unless  you  are  dead ; 
Then  ride  in  a  hearse, 
Lying  flat  on  your  back. 
I  hired  me  a  hack ! 
I  would  I  were  dead  1 


I 


"PELLUCID  HER  EYE.** 

(-4  Pantalet.) 

But,  oh !  I  was  dry, 

And  the  starved  dancers  crushed, 

Till  my  shirt-front  was  mushed. 

The  champagne  was  dry  — 

I  cannot  say  why ; 

But  the  night-bird  was  hushed, 

Yet  the  throstle-wits  thrushed  — 

I  cannot  say  why ; 

(The  champagne  was  dry). 


Ah.  pellucid  her  eye ! 
And  her  oval  cheek  flushed 
Like  a  strawberry  crushed. 
How  pellucid  her  eye  1 
I  cannot  3 ay  why  — 
(The  champagne  was  dry). 


250  IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 

M  I  sighed,  "Let  us  fly!" 

She  smiled  not  nor  gushed, 

But  from  me  slic  rushed. 

Maphap  I  seemed  "  fly  " 

The  wine  was  quite  dry. 

But  pelUicid  her  eye,  ^ 

I  cannot  say  why.  r 

This  report  having  been  voted  correct,  and  ordered 
to  be  inscribed  on  the  minutes,  Mr.  Howard  M.  Tick- 
nor  then  recited,  with  excellent  elocutionary  point,  the 
following  "  Greeting  to  Ellen  Terry  "  :  — 

'•  Honor,"  said  Cassius,  '*  is  my  story's  theme." 
Honor  shall  best  my  verse  to-night  beseem. 


For  some,  how  safe,  how  permanent,  how  sure  I 

"Written  in  characters  that  will  endure, 

Until  this  world  begins  to  melt  away 

And  crumble  to  its  ultimate  decay. 

The  picture  fades ;  but  color  still  is  there, 

Even  in  ruin  is  the  statue  fair ; 

The  iirovince  won,  the  city  burnt  or  built. 

The  inwrought  consequence  of  good  or  guilt, 

Shape  after  epochs  to  time's  latest  span, 

And  link  enduringly  a  man  to  man. 

But  he  who  is  himself  artist  and  art, 

Whose  greatest  works  are  of  himself  a  part  ; 

Who,  sculptor,  moulds  his  hand,  his  form,  his  face ; 

Who,  painter,  on  the  air  his  lines  must  trace ; 

Musician,  make  an  instrument  his  voice, 

And  tell,  not  write,  the  melody  of  his  choice; 

Whose  eloquence  of  gesture,  pose  and  eye 

Flashes  aglow,  in  instant  dark  to  die ;  — 

Where  are  for  him  the  honor  and  the  fame? 

A  face  on  canvas,  and  perhaps  a  name 

Extolled  awhile,  and  then  an  empty  Avord 

At  sound  of  which  no  real  thrill  is  stirred. 

What,  then,  shall  recompense  his  loss?    What  make 

Atonement  for  the  ignorant  future's  sake? 

Whafebut  the  tribute  of  his  honor  now, 

The  native  wreath  to  deck  his  living  brow? 

Then,  as  he  passes  beyond  the  mortal  ken, 
His  glory  shall  go  with  him  even  then, 


' 


A   CITY  OF  SLEIGHS,  251 


Not  as  a  hope,  a  doubt,  and  a  desire, 

But  as  a  spark  of  his  own  living  fire, 

Of  his  eternal  self  a  priceless  part, 

Eternal  witness  to  his  mind  and  heart. 

And  so,  to-night,  when  she  who  comes  from  far 

To  show  in  one  what  many  women  are, 

Sits  at  our  board,  and  makes  our  evening  shine, 

Breaks  bread  with  us,  and  pledges  in  our  wine, 

Let  us  be  quick  to  honor  in  our  guest 

So  many  a  phase  of  life  by  her  expressed. 

Portia's  most  gracious,  yet  submissive  word  — 

"  You  are  my  king,  my  governor,  my  lord; " 

Her  courage,  dignity,  and  force. 

Warning  the  Jew  that  justice  shall  have  course; 

The  trenchant  wit  of  Beatrice,  and  her  pride, 

Her  loyalty  as  friend,  her  faith  as  bride ; 

Letitia's  stratagems  ;  the  tragic  fate 

Of  sweet  Ophelia,  crushed  by  madness'  weight. 

How  many  chords  of  happiness  or  woe. 
Her  lips  that  quiver  and  her  cheeks  that  glow ; 
Her  speech  now  clear,  now  clouded,  and  her  eyes 
Filling  by  turns  with  anguish,  mirth,  surprise  — 
Can  wake  to  throb,  again  to  rest  can  still  — 
Potent  her  power  as  Prospero's  magic  will ! 

Present  alone  is  hers  —  alone  is  ours,. 

Now,  while  she  plants,  must  we,  too,  cull  the  flowera? 

For  future  wreaths  she  has  no  time  to  wait ; 

Unready  now,  they  are  for  aye  too  late. 

Now  is  the  moment  our  regard  to  show. 

Let  every  face  with  light  of  welcome  glow ; 

Let  smiles  shine  forth,  glad  words  be  spoken ; 

Formality  for  once  be  broken. 

Let  hand  strike  hand,  let  kerchiefs  wave, 

Keep  not  her  laurels  for  her  grave ; 

Twine  our  proud  chaplet  for  her  fair,  smooth  brow, 

And  bid  her  take  our  share  of  tribute  now ; 

Then  shall  it  be  a  recollection  dear. 

That  we  to-night  greet  Ellen  Terry  here ! 


in. 

Irving,  who  could  not  be  present  at  the  Papyrus 
Club  (it  was  one  of  Miss  Terry's  "off  nights,"  when 
either  "The  Bells"  or  "Louis  XI."  was  performed), 


252  IMPRESSIONS   OF  AMERICA. 

was  received  at  the  St.  Botolph's  Club  soon  after 
the  Papyrus  festivities  closed.  In  the  absence  of  the 
President,  ex-Mayor  Green,  the  Vice-President,  and 
Mr.  Secretary  Sullivan  did  the  honors  of  the  even- 
ing. An  interesting  meeting  on  this  occasion  was  the 
introduction  of  Irving  to  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  who 
later,  at  the  matinee  performance  of  "  Charles  the 
First,"  ^  was  quite  overcome  with  the  pathos  of  the 
play.  Apart  from  the  number  and  enthusiasm  of 
his  audiences,  Mr.  Irving's  personal  reception  by  the 
leading  men  of  Boston  —  litterateurs^  professors,  and 
scholars  —  might  well  have  given  point  to  the  few 
eloquent  words  which  he  addressed  to  the  house  on  the 
closing  performance  of  "  The  Bells  "  and  "  The  Belle's 
Stratagem."     He  said  :  — 

» In  the  second  act  there  were  occasionally  passages  where  Mr.  Ii-ving 
spoke  one  or  more  lines  in  a  manner  which  so  nearly  touched  the  heart 
with  sadness,  so  closely  appealed  to  the  feelinj^s,  that  nothinjj  but  the  brill- 
iancy of  his  art  stood  between.  His  interview  with  Cromwell  was  some- 
thing gi-and.  The  patience  shown  could  hai-dly  belong  to  anything  less 
than  royalty,  and  the  majestic  tone  thrown  into  the  line,  "  Uncover  in  the 
presence  of  your  king,"  indicated  a  conception  of  conscious  authority 
which  could  hardly  be  inipi-oved.  But  by  far  the  greatest  artistic  triumph 
was  his  delivery  of  the  short  speech  at  the  close  of  the  third  act.  The 
tone  in  which  the  lines  were  spoken  was  simply  grand,  and  when  they 
were  finished  the  pity  of  the  audience  was  instinctively  bestowed  upon  the 
helrayer  rather  than  the  betrayed.  Miss  Teriy  as  the  queen  won  a  con- 
siderable success.  Her  sincere  love  and  devotion  to  the  king  and  her 
children  were  exhibited  by  the  finest  tokens,  and  with  a  simplicity  which 
would  not  admit  the  thought  of  extravagance  or  affection.  Her  appeal  to 
Cromwell  for  the  life  of  the  king  was  well  worthy  a  queen ;  but  her  dis- 
dainful refusal  of  the  offer  to  release  him  in  case  he  would  abdicate  was 
something  remarkable  and  unique.  But  her  brightest  laurel  was  won  in 
the  final  parting  with  the  king  as  he  went  to  the  execution.  The  little 
shriek  she  utters  at  the  king  when  he  breaks  the  embrace  in  which  she 
holds  him,  appealed  directly  to  the  emotions,  and  seemed  to  be  the  cry  of 
a  heart  that  was  breaking.  —  Boston  Post.  •  ,•- 


{   *) 


A  CITY  OF  SLEIOnS. 


253 


u 


Ladies  and  Gentlemen, — I  have  the  privilege  of 
thanking  you,  for  myself,  and  in  behalf  of  my  com- 
rades, and  especially  in  behalf  of  my  gifted  sister,  Miss 
Ellen  Terry,  for  the  way  in  which  you  have  received  our 
tragedy,  comedy,  and  melodrama.  In  coming  to  this 
country  I  have  often  said  that  I  felt  I  was  coming 
among  friends ;  and  I  have  had  abundant  and  most 
touching  proof  that  I  was  right.  This  I  h.ave  never 
felt  more  truly  than  in  your  historic  city  of  New  Eng- 
land, which  seems  a  veritable  bit  of  old  England.  In 
this  theatre  we  have  been  on  classic  ground,  and  if  we 
have,  while  upon  these  boards,  accomplished  anything 
tending,  in  your  opinion,  to  the  advancement  of  a 
great  art,  in  which  we  are  all  deeply  interested,  we  are 
more  than  repaid  and  more  than  content.  It  affords  me 
great  pleasure  to  tell  you  that,  if  all  be  well,  we  shall 
return  to  Boston  in  March,  when  I  hope  to  present,  for 
the  first  time  on  our  tour,  "Much  Ado  About  Noth- 
ing." And  now,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  in  the  names 
of  one  and  all,  I  gratefully  thank  you,  and  respectfully 
wish  you  "  Good-by,  and  a  Merry  Christmas." 


254  IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


xn. 

LOOKING  FORWARD  TO  CHRISTMAS. 

Tntei'viewing  in  England  and  America — Rehearsing  Richard  and  Lady 
Ann  —  Reminiscences  of  a  Christmas  Dinner  —  A  Homely  Feast  —  Joe 
Robins  and  Guy  Fawkes — He  would  be  an  Actor  —  The  Luxury  of 
Warmth  —  "  One  Touch  of  Nature." 

I. 

.  There  is  interviewing  and  interviewing.  How  it 
comes  out  depends  upon  tlie  interviewer  and  the  inter- 
viewed. Every  phase  of  the  difficult  art  is  shown  in 
American  journaHsm.  Mr.  Yates,  in  the  "World," 
has  given  us  the  best  modern  form  of  interviewing  in 
"  Celebrities  at  Home."  Mr.  Blowitz,  of  the  "  Times," 
and  other  foreign  correspondents,  have  frequently  shown 
England  how  admirably  the  American  system  fits  a 
certain  class  of  news.  "  The  Pall  Mall  Gazette  "  has 
lately  adopted  the  method  of  our  cousins  more  in  de- 
tail than  has  been  hitherto  popular  with  the  London 
press.  I  have  alvva;^s  held  that  interviewing,  con- 
ducted with  discretion  and  a  sense  of  journalistic 
responsibility,  would  be  a  valuable  and  entertaining 
feature  of  English  newspaper  work. 

I  am  prompted  to  these  remarks  by  the  contents  of 
this  chapter.  Said  Mr.  Stephen  Fiske,  the  dramatic 
editor  of  "The  Spirit  of  the  Times,"  and  the  author  of 
a  clever  book  on  England,  "  I  am  anxious  to  have  Mr. 
Irving  write  a  short  story  for  our  Christmas  number. 


' 


. 


i:i 


LOOKING  FORWARD   TO  CHRISTMAS. 


255 


^, 


Wilkie  Collins,  as  you  know,  is  a  constant  contributor, 
and  we  have  the  assistance  of  some  of  the  best  pens, 
English  and  American.  Irving  has  written  for  several 
English  publications." 

"  He  has  a  wonderful  amount  of  energy,  and  can  do 
more  mental  work  in  a  given  time  tlian  any  man  I  know  ; 
but  wlien  he  is  going  to  get  an  opportunity  to  sit  down 
and  write  a  Christmas  story  is  more  than  I  can  tell." 

"I  only  want  a  personal  reminiscence,  an  anecdote 
or  two,'^  said  Fiske ;  "  but  I  must  have  him  in  the 
Christmas  number." 

"  Why  don't  you  interview  him,  with  Christmas  as 
the  pivot  of  your  interrogations  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  He  has  been  interviewed  almost  to  death,  I  should 
think."  1 

"Oh,  no  ;  I  believe  he  likes  it  I  I  am  sure  he  does 
when  a  really  bright,  clever  fellow  comes  along  and 
engages  his  attention.  Though  he  does  not  say  so, 
and,  perhaps,  has  not  thought  about  it,  he  is  doing 
good  every  time  he  has  a  real  earnest  talk  to  a  reporter 
about  the  stage  and  its  mission.  No  actor  ever  set 
people  thinking  so  much  in  England,  and  he  is  prov- 
ing himself  quite  an  art  missionary  on  this  side  of  the 
Atlantic." 

"That's  true,"  srid  the  dramatic  editor;  "but  for 
my  purpose  I  only  want  him  to  be  simply  entertaining, 
—  a  bit  of  personal  history,  apropos  of  Clu-istmas." 

1  The  trouble  touching  some  of  the  "Interviews  "  that  appeared  in  the 
journals  was  that  they  were  not  all  genuine.  Fiske  suggested  this  fact  as 
discounting  a  "  Christmas  chat " ;  but  I  undertook  to  endorse  his  wox'k  by 
"annexing  "  his  "  intei-view  "  to  these  pages,  and  I  have  to  thank  him  for 
his  bright  contribution. 


256  IMPHESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 

"Play  the  role  of  an  interviewer,  and  write  the 
storiea  yourself,"  I  suggested. 

"I  will,"  said  Fiske.  "Your  plan  has  this  advan- 
tage,—  I  shall  get  the  copy  in  proper  time  for  the 
printer." 

n. 

And  this  Christmas  chat  is  the  result  of  the  dramatic 
editor's  decision. 

"  It  was  a  gloomy,  rainy,  miserable  day.  The  thea- 
tre, always  a  dreary  place  in  the  morning,  seemed  even 
more  depressing  than  usual.  Mr.  Irving  was  rehears- 
ing the  first  act  of  *  Richard  III. ,'  possibly  with  a  view 
to  Baltimore  or  Chicago. 

"  With  that  infinite  patience  which  some  philosophers 
define  as  genius,  Mr.  Irving  went  over  and  over 
the  lines  of  Richard  and  Lady  Ann,  and  acted  all  the 
business  of  the  scene.  His  street  costume  and  tall 
silk  hat  appeared  ridiculously  incongruous  with  his 
sword  and  his  words.  He  knelt  upon  the  stage  and 
showed  Lady  Ann  how  to  take  hold  of  the  weapon 
and  threaten  to  kill  him.  He  roj '  and  repeated  her 
speeches  with  appropriate  gestures.  He  knelt  again, 
gave  her  the  cues,  and  watched  her  from  under  his 
heavy  c}'ebrows,  while  she  again  rehearsed  the  scene. 

"Repeated  a  dozen  times,  this  performance  became  as 
monotonous  as  the  dripping  of  the  rain  without,  or  the 
slow  motions  of  the  cleaners  in  the  front  of  the  theatre. 
At  last,  with  a  few  final  kindly  words,  the  Lady  Ann 
WHS  dismissed,  and  Mr.  Irving  sat  down  wearily  at  the 
prompter's  table. 


I 


LOOKING  FORWARD  TO  CHRISTMAS.        257 


'"Where  shall  you  eat  your  Christmas  diimer?'  I 
inquired. 

"'At  Baltimore,' replied  Mr.  Irving.  'Several  of 
my  company  have  brought  their  home-made  Christmas 
puddings  over  with  them,  and  are  to  carry  them  about, 
with  the  rest  of  the  luggage,  until  the  day  arrives.  1 
have  determined  to  try  the  American  Christmas  pud- 
dings, which,  I  am  told,  are  very  good  indeed,  —  like 
most  things  American.' 

"  '  Oh,  our  people  manufacture  them  by  thousands  ! 
After  all,  a  Christmas  pudding  is  only  a  mince-pie 
boiled.'  • 

"'Just  sc,'  said  Mr.  Irving,  laughing  in  his  silent, 
interior,  Leatherstocking  manner.  '  I  am  thinking,' 
he  exclaimed,  '  of  the  Christmas  dinner  I  gave  last 
year,  in  the  room  of  the  old  Beefsteak  Club,  which, 
you  know,  is  now  part  of  the  Lyceum  Theatre.  Wo 
had  talked  the  matter  over,  —  a  few  friends  and  myself, 
—  and  decided  that  we  were  tired  of  professional  ''.ooks 
and  conventional  bills  of  fare,  and  that  the  best  stimu- 
lus for  our  jaded  palates  was  a  return  to  plain,  homely 
dishes. 

"  'You  can  fancy  Stoker  saying  that.  He  said  it  over 
and  over  for  at  least  a  month,  and  kept  humming, 
"There's  no  place  —  or  no  dinner  —  like  home,"  in  the 
most  disquieting  way,  whenever  the  matter  was  men- 
tioned. He  also  undertook  to  arrange  the  whole 
affair. 

'"Well,  it  was  arranged.  There  were  to  be  no  pro- 
fessional cpterers,  no  professional  waiters,  no  luxuries 
of  any  kind,  —  except  the  wines,  which  I  took  under 


258 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


my  own  care,  being  cast  for  the  part  of  the  butler. 
Stoker  was  to  buy  the  material.  The  property-man's 
wife  was  to  roast  the  beef  and  the  turkey.  The  mis- 
tress of  the  wardrobe  undertook  to  boil  the  pudding. 
An  usher,  born  with  a  genius  for  cookery,  who  was 
discovered  by  Stoker,  had  charge  of  the  soup,  fish, 
and  vegetables.  We  were  to  wait  upon  ourselves,  —  a 
genuine  family  party.  A  suggestion  to  order  ices 
from  Gunter's,  in  case  the  pudding  was  a  failure,  was 
voted  down  indignantly. 

"'As  Christmas  approached  I  became  quite  inter- 
.ested  in  this  home  dinner,  — hungry  for  it  days  in  ad- 
vance, as  one  may  say.  I  began  by  inviting  one 
friend  who  had  a  reputation  as  an  epicure ;  then 
another  asked  to  be  allowed  to  share  our  homely  feast. 
Presently  our  family  party  grew  to  thirty.  I  began  to 
have  forebodings.  You  see,  a  small  family  can  wait 
upon  themselves,  but  not  a  family  of  thirty. 

"*  However,  Stoker  appeared  cheerily  satisfied  and 
mysteriously  complacent,  and  seemed  to  think  that  our 
motto  should  be  "  The  more  the  merrier  !  "  I  imao:ined 
that  he  had  secretly  tested  some  of  the  home  cooking 
beforehand,  and  rather  envied  him  his  position  as 
taster. 

" '  The  guests  were  met ;  the  table  set.  I  had  made 
sure  that  the  wines  were  all  right.  As  I  looked  along 
at  the  happy,  friendly  faces  I  felt  tnat  a  home  dinner 
was  the  most  pleasant,  after  all.  The  soup  tureen  was 
before  me,  and  I  lifted  the  cover  with  the  anxious  pride 
of  a  Wellington  firing  the  first  gun  at  Waterloo. 

"  *  The  chance  simile  of  a  battle  holds  good  ;  for  the 


LOOKING  FORWARD  TO  CHRISTMAS. 


259 


soup  was  awfully  smoky.  Somebody  said  that  it  tasted 
like  a  chimney  on  fire.  The  fish  was  worse.  The  roast 
beef  was  uneatable.  Persistent  as  I  naturally  am,  I 
gave  up  the  attempt  to  carve  the  turkey.  The  pudding 
was  as  hard  as  a  stone.  What  little  appetite  remained 
to  us  was  lost  while  carving  the  meats  and  passing  the 
plates  around.  I  had  felt  like  Wellington  before 
Waterloo ;  but,  when  the  dinner  was  over,  I  could 
appreciate  the  despair  of  the  defeated  Naj)oleon. 

" '  Had  we  been  only  a  family  party  the  fiasco  would 
not  have  been  so  fatal ;  but,  as  I  told  you,  I  had  in- 
vited epicures ;  I  had  dragged  my  friends  from  their 
comfortable  homes  on  Christmas  Day  to  partake  of  this 
terrible  repast.  Some  of  them  have  never  quite  for- 
given me.  Some  have  forgiven  me,  because  I  had  a 
chance  to  take  them  aside  and  put  all  the  blame  upon 
Stoker.  But  nobody  who  was  present  can  ever  have 
forgotten  it. 

"'Like  Napoleon,  I  retreated  to  Fontainebleau,  — I 
fell  back  upon  the  wines.  One  of  the  guests  won  my 
heart  by  loudly  eulogizing  the  cheese  and  the  crackers. 
They  were  not  home-made.  They  had  not  been  cooked 
in  the  theatre  I 

"'Here  comes  Stoker,'  continued  Mr.  Irving,  re- 
lapsing into  his  curious  solemnity  of  manner ;  '  let  us 
ask  him  about  it. 

"  *  I  say,  Stoker,  do  you  remember  the  home  dinner 
you  gave  us  at  the  Lyceum  last  Christmas  ?  ' 

"Mr.  Stoker  stopped  on  his  way  across  the  stage, 
and  stood  like  a  statue  of  amazement,  of  indignation,  of 
outraged  virtue.     '  The  dinner  /  gave  you? '  he  at  last 


260 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA.    • 


' 


exclaimed.  Then  his  loyalty  to  his  chief  triumphed, 
and  he  added,  *  Well,  you  may  call  it  my  dinner,  if  you 
like ;  but  I  have  the  original  copy  of  the  bill  of  fare 
in  your  own  handwriting.' 

•'  "*Ah!'  resumed  Mr.  Irving,  quite  placidly,  as  his 
acting  manager  dashed  away,  '  I  thought  Stoker 
would  remember  that  dinner  ! ' 

" '  This  Christmas  you  will  dine  upon  roast  canvas- 
backs,  instead  of  roast  beef,  and  stewed  terrapin,  in- 
stead of  smoked  soup,'  I  observed. 

"'Yes,'  replied  the  English  actor;  'I  am  told  that 
Baltimore  is  the  best  place  for  those  delicacies.  But 
they  will  not  seem  strange  to  me ;  I  have  eaten  canvas- 
backs  at  Christmas  before.' 

"' In  England  ?  ' 

"'Certainly.  My  first  American  manager  —  Papa 
Bateman  you  used  to  call  him  —  had  many  good 
friends  in  this  country,  who  kept  him  liberally  supplied 
with  almost  all  your  American  luxuries.  Under  his 
tuition  I  learned  to  like  the  oysters,  the  terrapin,  and 
canvas-backs,  upon  which  my  generous  hosts  are  feast- 
ing me  now,  long  before  I  ever  thought  of  coming  to 
America. 

" '  But  perhaps  the  most  remarkable  Christmas  dinner 
at  which  I  have  ever  been  present,'  continued  Mr. 
Irving,  after  reflecting  for  a  few  moments,  '  was  the 
one  at  which  we  dined  upon  under-clothing.' 

'' '  Do  you  mean  upon  your  under-clothing  or  in  your 
under-clothing ?' queried  the  astonished  'Spirit,'  con- 
juring up  visions  of  Christmas  dinners  on  uninhabited 
islands,  at  which  shipwrecked  mariners  had  been  known 


LOOKING  FORWARD  TO  CHRISTMAS. 


261 


to  devour  their  apparel,  and  of  the  tropical  Christmas 
dinners  in  India  and  Australia,  at  which  scanty  cos- 
tumes are  appropriate  to  tlie  climate. 

" '  Both  ! '  replied  i\Ir.  Irvinf^.  '  It  is  not  a  story  of 
wonderful  adventure  ;  but  I'll  tell  it  to  you,  if  you  have 
five  minutes  more  to  spare.  Do  you  remember  Joe 
Eobins,  —  a  nice,  genial  fellow  who  played  small  parts 
in  provinces?     Ah,  no;  that  was  before  your  time. 

" '  Joe  Robins  was  once  in  the  gentleman's  furnishing 
business  in  London  city.  I  think  that  he  had  a  whole- 
sale trade,  and  was  doing  well.  However,  he  belonged 
to  one  of  the  semi -Bohemian  clubs  ;  associated  a  great 
deal  with  actors  and  journalists,  and,  when  an  amateur 
performance  was  organized  for  some  charitable  object, 
Joe  was  cast  for  the  clown  in  a  burlesque  called  "  Guy 
Fawkes." 

"  *  Perhaps  he  played  the  part  capitally  ;  perhaps  his 
friends  were  making  game  of  him  when  they  loaded 
him  with  praises  ;  perhaps  the  papers  for  which  his 
Bohemian  associates  wrote  went  rather  too  far  when 
they  asserted  that  he  was  the  artistic  descendant  and 
successor  of  Grimaldi.  At  any  rate,  Joe  believed  all 
that  was  said  to  him  and  written  about  him,  and  when 
some  wit  discovered  that  Grimaldi's  name  was  also  Joe, 
the  fate  of  Joe  Robins  was  sealed.  He  determined  to  go 
upon  the  stage  professionally  and  become  a  great  actor. 

" '  Fortunately  Joe  was  able  to  dispose  of  his  stock 
and  good-will  for  a  few  hundred  pounds,  which  he  in- 
vested so  as  to  give  him  an  income  sufficient  to  prevent 
the  wolf  from  getting  inside  his  door,  in  case  he  did 
not  eclipse  Garrick,   Kean,   and  Kemble.       He  also 


2G2 


IMPBE8SI0N8  OF  AMERICA. 


!  i 


^^ 


packed  up  for  himself  a  liberal  supply  of  his  wares,  and 
started  in  the  profession  with  enough  shirts,  collars, 
handkerchiefs,  stockings,  and  under-clothing  to  equip 
him  for  several  veurs. 

"'The  amateur  success  of  poor  Joe  was  never  re- 
peated on  the  regular  stage.  He  did  not  make  an  ab- 
solute failure ;  no  manager  would  entrust  him  with 
parts  big  enough  for  him  to  fail  in.  But  he  drifted 
down  to  general  utility,  and  then  out  of  London,  and 
when  I  met  him  he  was  engaged  in  a  very  small  way, 
on  a  very  small  salary,  at  a  jNIanchester  theatre. 

" '  His  income  eked  out  his  salary ;  but  Joe  was  a 
generous,  great-hearted  fellow,  who  liked  everybody, 
and  whom  everybody  liked,  and  when  he  had  money  he 
was  always  glad  to  spend  it  upon  a  friend  or  give  it 
away  to  somebody  more  needy.  So,  piece  by  piece,  as 
necessity  demanded,  his  princely  supply  of  haber- 
dashery had  diminished,  and  now  only  a  few  shirts  and 
under-clothes  remained  to  him. 

" '  Christmas  came  in  very  bitter  weather.  Joe  had  a 
part  in  the  Christmas  pantomime.  He  dressed  with 
other  poor  actors,  and  he  saw  how  thinly  some  of  them 
were  clad  when  they  stripped  before  him  to  put  on 
their  stage  costumes.  For  one  poor  fellow  in  especial 
his  heart  ached.  In  the  depth  of  a  very  cold  winter 
he  was  shivering  in  a  suit  of  very  light  summer  under- 
clothing, and  whenever  Joe  looked  at  him  the  warm 
flannel  under-garments  snugly  packed  away  in  an  extra 
trunk  weighed  heavily  upon  his  mind. 

" '  Joe  thought  the  matter  over,  and  determined  to 
give  the  actors  who  dressed  with  him  a  Christmas  din- 


LOOKING  FORWARD  TO  CHRISTMAS. 


2G3 


ner.  It  was  literally  a  dinner  upon  undcr-clotliing ; 
for  the  most  of  the  shirts  and  drawers  which  Joe  had 
cherished  so  long  went  to  the  pawnbroker's,  or  the 
slop-shop,   to  provide   the   money  for  the   meal. 

"'The  guests  assembled  promptly,  for  nobody  else  is 
ever  so  hungry  as  a  hungry  actor.  The  dinner  was  to 
be  served  at  Joe's  lodgings,  and,  before  it  was  placed 
on  the  table,  Joe  beckoned  his  friend  with  the  gauze 
under-clothcs  into  a  bedroom,  and,  pointing  to  a  chah*, 
silently  withdrew. 

" '  On  that  chair  hung  a  suit  of  undcr-wear  which  had 
been  Joe's  pride.  It  was  of  a  comfortable  scarlet 
color ;  it  was  thick,  warm,  and  heavy  ;  it  fitted  the  poor 
actor  as  if  it  had  been  manufactured  especially  to  his 
measure.  He  put  it  on,  and,  as  the  flaming  flannels 
encased  his  limbs,  he  felt  liis  heart  glowing  within  him 
with  gratitude  to  dear  Joe  Robins. 

"'That  actor  never  knew  —  or,  if  he  knew,  he  never 
could  remember  —  what  he  had  for  dinner  on  that 
Christmas  afternoon.  He  revelled  in  the  luxury  of 
warm  garments.  The  roast  beef  was  nothing  to  him 
in  comparison  with  the  comfort  of  his  undervest ;  he 
appreciated  the  drawers  more  than  the  plum-pudding. 
Proud,  happy,  warm,  and  comfortable,  he  felt  little 
inclination  to  eat,  but  sat  quietly,  and  thanked  Provi- 
dence and  Joe  Robins  with  all  his  heart.' 

" '  You  seem  to  enter  into  that  poor  actor's  feelings 
very  sympathetically,'  I  observed,  as  Mr.  Irving  paused. 

"  '  I  have  good  reason  to  do  so,'  replied  Mr.  Irving, 
with  his  gentle,  sunshiny  smile  ;  '  for  I  was  that  poor 
actor!'" 


■ii 


2C4 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA, 


xm. 


A  WILD  RAILWAY  JOURNEY. 


; 


A  Great  American  Railway  Station  —  Platforms  and  Waiting-Rooms  —  A 
Queer  Night —  "  Snow  is  as  Bad  as  Fog  "  —  A  Farmer  who  Suggests 
Mathias  in  "  The  Bells"  —  A  Romance  of  the  Hudson — Looking  for 
the  "  Maryland  '  and  Finding  "  The  Danites  "  —  Fighting  a  Snow-storm 
—  "A  Ministering  Angel"  —  The  Publicity  of  Private  Cai"s  —  Myste- 
rious Proceedings  —  Strange  Lights  —  Snowed  up  —  Digging  out  the 
Railway  Points  —  A  Good  Samaritan  Locomotive  —  Trains  Ahead  of 
Us,  Trains  Behind  Us  —  Railway  Lights  and  Bells  —  "What's  Going' 
On?" 

I. 

"  The  Irving  train  is  expected  to  arrive  at  Jersey 
City  from  Boston  at  about  seven  o'clock,"  said  a  tele- 
graphic dispatch  which  I  received  in  New  York  on  Sun- 
day. I  had  left  the  great  New  England  city  two  days 
before  Irving's  special  train,  with  the  understanding 
that  I  should  join  him  at  Jersey  City,  en  route  for 
Baltimore. 

At  half-past  six  I  was  on  the  great  steam  ferry-boat 
that  plies  from  the  bottom  of  Desbrosses  street,  New 
York,  to  the  other  side  of  the  river.  A  wintry  wind 
was  blowing  up  from  the  sea.  I  preferred  the  open  air 
to  the  artificial  heat  of  the  cabin.  In  ten  minutes  I  was 
landed  at  the  station  of  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad. 

"Inquire  for  the  steamer  'Maryland,'"  continued 
that  dispatch  which  I  have  just  quoted.  "  She  conveys 
the  train  down  the  Harlem  river  to  connect  on  the 
Pennsylvania  Road.'* 


A  WILD  RAILWAY  JOURNEY. 


265 


The  general  waiting-room  of  tlie  station,  or  depot,  as 
our  American  cousins  call  it,  is  a  characteristic  one. 
Seeing  that  I  was  allowed  plenty  of  time  to  observe  it, 
I  propose  to  describe  it.  A  large  square  hall,  with  a 
high-pitched  roof,  it  has  more  of  a  Continental  than  an 
English  or  American  appearance.  As  you  enter  you 
find  a  number  of  people  waiting  for  the  trains.  They 
include  a  few  colored  people  and  Chinamen.  The 
centre  of  the  room  is  filled  with  benches,  like  the  stalls 
of  a  London  theatre.  You  wonder  why  two  marble 
tombs  have  been  erected  here.  They  turn  out  to  be 
heat-distributers.  The  hot  air  pours  out  from  their 
grated  sides.  In  case  you  sliould  be  in  danger  of  suf- 
focation a  drinking  fountain  is  in  handy  proximity  to 
tlie  blasts  of  heated  air.  The  right-hand  side  of  the  hall 
is  filled  with  booking-oflfices,  and  a  clock  bell  tolls,  in- 
dicating the  times  at  which  the  various  trains  start. 
On  the  left  is  a  cafc^  and  an  entrance  from  Jersey 
City.  Opposite  to  you  as  you  enter  from  the  ferry 
are  two  pairs  of  doors  leading  to  the  trains,  and  the 
space  between  the  portals  is  filled  in  with  a  handsome 
book-stall.  The  door-ways  here  are  jealously  guarded 
by  oflficials  who  announce  the  departure  of  trains  and 
examine  your  tickets.  One  of  these  guards  sits  near 
a  desk  where  a  little  library  of  city  and  State  directo- 
ries is  placed  for  the  use  of  passengers.  Each 
volume  is  chained  to  the  wall.  Near  the  caf6  is  a 
post-oflSce  box,  and  hanging  hard  by  are  the  weather 
bulletins  of  the  day.  A  ladies'  waiting-room  occupies 
a  portion  of  the  hall  on  the  booking-oflSce  side.  The 
place  is  lighted  with  electric  lamps,  which  occasionally 


2G6 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


fiz  and  splutter,  and  once  in  a  while  go  out  altogether. 
Nobody  pays  any  attention  to  this.  Everybody  is  used 
to  the  eccentricities  of  tlie  new  and  beautiful  liffht. 

Obtaining  permission  to  pass  the  ticket  portals,  I 
reach  the  platform,  where  I  am  to  find  the  station- 
master.  The  outlook  here  reminds  me  of  the  high- 
level  station  of  the  Crystal  Palace.  A  dim  gas-light 
exhibits  the  outlines  of  a  series  of  long  cars,  fenced  in 
with  gates,  that  are  every  now  and  then  thrown  open  to 
receive  batches  of  passengers  from  the  waiting-room. 

The  Irving  train  has  been  delayed.  She  is  reported 
"to  arrive  at  the  Harlem  river  at  half-past  eight."  In 
that  case  she  may  be  here  at  a  quarter  to  ten. 

I  return  to  the  spluttering  electric  lamps  and  to  the 
continually  coming  and  going  multitudes  of  passengers. 
"No  Smoking"  is  one  of  the  notices  on  the  walls. 
Two  men  have  lighted  their  cigars  right  under  it. 
They  remind  one  of  the  duellists  in  "  Marion  de  Lorme," 
who  fight  beneath  the  cardinal's  proclamation.  The 
cafe  is  bright  and  inviting,  and  its  chocolate  is  as  com- 
forting as  the  literature  of  the  book-stall.  The  novels 
of  Howells  and  James  and  Braddon  and  Black  are 
here,  and  the  Christmas  numbers  of  the  "  Illustrated 
London  News  "  and  the  "  Graphic  "  ;  so  likewise  are  the 
Christmas  and  New  Year's  cards  of  Marcus  Ward,  De 
la  Rue,  and  Lowell.  I  purchase  the  latest  novelty  in 
books,  "  John  Bull  and  His  Island,"  and  try  to  read. 
I  look  up  now  and  then  to  see  the  crowd  file  off  through 
the  ticket-doors  to  go  to  Bethlehem,  Catasauqua,  Lans- 
down.  New  Market,  Bloomsbury,  Waverly,  Linden, 
Philadelphia,    West    Point,    Catskill,    Albans,    New 


A   WILD  RAILWAY  JOUPNEY. 


267 


Scotland,  Port  Jackson,  Schenectady,  and  other  tov/ns 
and  cities,  the  names  of  which  stir  my  thoughts  into  u 
strange  jumble  of  reflections,  biblical,  topographical, 
and  otherwise.  Bethlehem  and  Bloomsbury  I  Were 
ever  cues  for  fancy  wider  apart?  "Over  here,"  I  read 
in  "John  Bull  and  His  Island,"  the  writer  referring  to 
London,  "you  arc  not  locked  up  in  a  waiting-room 
until  your  train  comes  in.  You  roam  where  you  like 
about  the  station,  and  your  friends  may  see  you  off  and 
give  you  a  hand-shake  as  the  train  leaves  the  platform. 
The  functionary  is  scarcely  known .  There  are  more  of 
them  at  the  station  of  Fouilly  les  Epinards  than  in 
the  most  important  station  in  London.  You  see 
placards  everywhere  :  'Beware  of  Pick-pockets ' ;  'Ascer- 
tain that  your  change  is  right  before  leaving  the  book- 
ing-desk.' The  Englishman  does  not  like  being  taken 
in  hand  like  a  baby."  Curiously  the  American  is 
treated  on  the  railroads  very  much  as  in  France.  As 
to  placard-notices  you  see  cautions  against  pick-pockets, 
and  the  London  warning  as  to  change.  Some  of  the 
other  notifications  in  American  stations  are  curious : 
"  No  Loafing  allowed  in  this  Depot "  ;  "  Don't  Spit  on  the 
Floor."  Douglas  Jerrold's  joke  about  the  two  angry 
foreigners  who  exclaimed,  "  I  spit  upon  you  !  "  has  more 
point  here  than  in  England  ;  for  no  apartment  is  sacred 
enough  in  this  free  country  to  keep  out  the  spittoon, 
which,  in  some  places,  is  designed  in  such  a  way  as  to 
indicate  a  strong  intention  to  make  it  ornamental  as 
well  as  useful. 

I  seek  the  station-master  again. 

"Not  sooner  than  a  quarter  to  eleven,"  he  says. 


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II 


268 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


i 


. 


"  Does  the  weather  obstruct  the  train  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it's  a  queer  night ;  snow  falling  very  thickly ; 
makes  the  river  journey  slower  than  usual ;  snow  is  as 
bad  as  fog."      ':>:■■.:■:.'   '  n-   ..'^,<■•'    ;'.  .1  '„:•;■' 

The  entire  train  of  eight  enormous  cars,  containing 
the  Lyceum  company  and  their  baggage,  is  transported 
by  boat  right  down  the  Harlem  river,  a  distance  of 
several  miles,  the  raft  and  train  being  attached  to  a 
tug-boat.  The  train  is  run  upon  the  floating  track 
at  Harlem,  and  connected  with  the  main  line  again  at 
Jersey  City.  .  . 

"I  was  to  ask  for  the  steamer  '  Maryland.*  "  -  ** 

**  Yes,  her  quay  is  outside  the  depot.  I  will  let  you 
know  when  she  is  reported.  You  will  hear  her 
whistle." 

Trying  to  return  to  the  waiting-room  I  find  I  am 
locked  in.  Presently  a  good-natured  official  lets  me 
out.  In  the  meantime  the  cafe  has  closed,  the  book- 
stall has  fastened  its  windows  and  put  out  its  lights. 
The  waiters  on  trains  have  thinned  in  numbers.  Two 
poor  Chinamen  who  have  been  here  are  talking  pigeon 
English  to  a  porter. 

"You  missed  it  at  seven,"  he  says ;  "no  more  train 
till  twelve."  •;  < 

"  Twelfy  I "  says  John,  calmly  counting  his  fingers ; 
**no  morey  go  tilly  twelf."  -     ,        '   ,  t 

"That's  so,"  says  the  porter.  ^  :>         ;    •. 

The  two  celestials  sit  down  quietly  to  wait ;  the  ferry- 
boats give  out  their  hoarse  signals,  and  presently  a 
number  of  other  people  come  in,  covered  with  snow, 
a  bitter  wind  accompanying  them,  as  the  doors  open 


A  WILD  BAILWAY  JOURNEY. 


269 


and  shut.  They  stamp  their  feet  and  shake  the  snow 
from  off  their  garments,  and  you  hear  the  jingle  of  sleigh- 
bells  without.  A  farmer  whose  dress  suggests  Ma^ 
thias,  in  "The  Bells,"  comes  in.  He  carries  a  bundle. 
There  is  a  slip  of  green  laurel  in  his  button-hole. 
I  avail  myself  of  the  supposed  privilege  of  the  country, 
and  talk  to  him.    -^    .   >        . 

"Yes,"  he  says.  "Christmas  presents;  I  guess 
that's  what  I've  been  to  New  York  for.  I  live  at 
Katskill.  No,  not  much  in  the  way  of  farming.  My 
father  had  land  in  Yorkshire.  Guess  I  am  an  English- 
man, as  one  may  say,  though  born  on  the  Hudson. 
Did  I  ever  hear  of  Rip  Van  Winkle  at  Katskill?  I 
guess  so.  Live  there  now?  No,  sir;  guess  it's  a 
story,  aint  it  ?  But  there  was  a  sort  of  a  hermit  feller 
lived  on  the  Hudson  till  a  year  or  two  ago.  He  was 
English.  A  scholar,  they  said,  and  learned.  His 
grandchild,  a  girl,  lived  with  him.  Did  nothing  but 
read.  Built  the  hut  hisself.  Never  seen  except  when 
he  and  the  girl  went  to  buy  stores.  It  was  in  the 
papers,  when  he  died,  a  year  or  two  back.  Broke  his 
heart,  'cause  his  girl  skipped."       .        •  •  -  -   .  .-  - 

" '  Skipped  I '  I  repeated. 

"  You  are  fresh,  sir,  green  ;  as  you  say  in  England, 
run  away,  —  that's  skipping.  I  bought  one  of  his 
books  when  his  things  were  sold,  because  I  have  a 
grandchild,  and  know  what  it  is.  Good-night  I  A 
merry  Christmas  to  you!"  ' 

No  other  hint  of  Christmas  in  the  depot,  among  the 
people,  or  on  the  walls,  except  the  cards  and  illus- 
trated English  papers  inside  the  book-stall  windows.    I 


270 


IMPBESSIONS   OF  AMERICA. 


turn  to  "John  Bull  and  His  Island,"  and  wonder  if 
any  English  writer  will  respond  with  "  Jean  Crapeaud 
and  His  City."  No  country  is  more  open  to  satire 
than  France  ;  no  people  accept  it  with  so  little  patience. 
There  are  some  wholesome  truths  in  Max  O'Rell's 
brochure.     It  is  good  to  see  ourselves  as  others  see  us. 

A  quarter  to  eleven.  It  is  surely  time  to  go  forth 
in  search  of  the  "  Maryland." 

"Better  have  a  guide,"  says  a  courteous  official ; 
"you  can't  find  it  without;  and,  by  thunder,  how  it 
snows  I     See  'em  ?  " 

He  points  to  several  new-comers. 

"  Only  a  few  feet  from  the  ferry,  —  and  they're  like 
walking  snow-drifts.     See  'em  !  " 

The  guide,  as  sturdy  as  a  Derbyshire  ploughboy, 
comes  along  with  his  lantern. 

"There  are  three  ladies,"  I  tell  him,  "in  the  private 
waiting-room,  who  are  to  come  with  us." 


n. 

I  AM  taking  my  wife  and  two  girls  to  Baltimore  for 
the  Christmas  week.  Last  year  we  had  our  Christmas 
dinner  with  Irving.  This  year  he  has  said,  "Let  us 
all  sup  together.  The  theatres  are  open  on  Christmas 
day  ;  we  must,  therefore,  have  our  pudding  for  supper 
after  we  have  seen  the  last  of  poor  old  Louis." 

"  Awkward  night  for  ladies  getting  to  the  '  Mary- 
land,'"  says  the  guide.  , 

They  are  well  provided  with  cloaks  and  furs  and  snow- 
boots,  or   rubbers  (an  absolute  necessity  and  a  great 


A  WILD  RAILWAY  JOURNEY. 


271 


comfort  in  America) ,  and  we  all  push  along  after  the 
guide,  across  the  departure  platform,  into  the  snowy 
night,  —  the  flakes  fall  in  blinding  clouds  ;  over  railway 
tracks  which  men  are  clearing,  —  the  white  carpet  soft 
and  yielding  ;  between  freight-cars,  tlu'ough  open  sheds, 
—  the  girls  enjoying  it  all,  as  only  young  people  can 
enjoy  a  snow-storm. 

The  flickering  light  of  our  guide's  lantern  is  at  length 
eclipsed  by  the  radiance  of  a  well-illuminated  cabin. 

"  This  is  the  office  ;  you  can  wait  here  ;  they'll  tell 
you  when  the  *  Maryland's  '  rejDorted." 

A  snug  room,  with  a  great  stove  in  the  centre.  The 
men  who  arc  sitting  around  it  move  to  make  wky  for 
us.  They  do  not  disguise  their  surprise  at  the  arrivals  : 
an  English  family  (one  of  them  very  young,  with  her 
hair  blowing  about  her  face),  with  snow  enough  falling 
from  their  cloaks  to  supply  material  for  a  snow-balling 
match.  We  are  evidently  regarded  as  novel  visitors. 
Track  laborers  and  others  follow  us  in.  They  carry 
lamps,  and  their  general  appearance  recalls  the  mining 
scene  in  "The  Danites,"  at  the  London  Olympic. 
Our  entrance  seems  as  much  of  a  surprise  to  the  others 
as  the  arrival  of  **the  school-marm"  was  to  the  men 
in  the  Californian  bar-room. 

Presently  a  smart  official  (not  unlike  a  guard  of  the 
Midland  Railway  in  England  as  to  his  uniform)  enters. 
There  is  a  swing  in  his  gait  and  a  lamp  in  his  hand,  as 
a  smart  writer  might  put  it. 

"  That  gentleman  will  tell  you  all  about  the  train,'* 
says  one  of  the  Danites,  speaking  in  the  shadow  of  the 
Btove.  ^ 


: 


272 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


"The  *  Maryland/"  I  say,  addressing  the  officer; 
"  I  want  to  get  on  board  her  special  train  from  Bos- 
ton." 

"  Guess  I  can't  help  that !  I  want  to  get  some  cars 
off  her,  that's  all  I  know,"  is  the  response,  the  speaker 
eying  me  loftily,  and  then  pushing  his  way  towards  a 
lookout  window  on  the  other  side  of  the  cabin. 

"  Oh,  thank  you  very  much  !  "  I  say.  ''  You  are 
really  too  ^  jd.  Is  there  any  other  gentleman  here  who 
is  anxious  to  tell  me  where  I  shall  find  the  '  Maryland's ' 
quay,  and  explain  how  I  am  to  get  on  board  the 
special  express,  which  takes  a  day  to  do  a  five  hours' 
journey  ?  " 

"I'll  show  you,"  says  my  surly  friend,  turning  round 
iipon  me  and  looking  me  all  over.  "I  am  the 
guard." 

"Thank  you." 

"  Here  she  comes  I "  he  exclaims. 

I  forgive  him,  at  once,  his  brusqueness.  He,  too, 
has,  of  course,   been  waiting  six  hours  for  her. 

A  hoarse  whistle  is  heard  on  the  river.  The  guard 
opens  the  cabin-door.  In  rushes  the  snow  and  the 
wind.  The  guard's  lantern  casts  a  gleam  of  light  on 
the  white  way.  '  '  •   ' 

"  Be  careful  here,"  he  says,  assisting  my  girls  over  a 
rough  plank  road.  ••'- - 

It  is  an  open  quay  over  which  we  a..e  pushing  along. 
The  guard,  now  full  of  kind  attention,  holds  up  his  lamp 
for  us,  and  indicates  the  best  paths,  the  snow  filling  our 
eyes  and  wetting  oar  faces.  Now  we  mount  a  gang- 
way.    Then   we  struggle  down  a  plank.     There  are 


A  WILD  RAILWAY  JOURNEY. 


273 


bustle  and  noise  ahead  of  us,  and  the  plash  "  of  .many 
waters." 

"Hatton  I "  shouts  the  familiar  voice  of  Bram  Stoker, 
throujjh  the  darkness. 
'  "Here  we  are  1 "  is  the  prompt  reply.  '         " 

A  stalwart  figure  pushes  through  the  snow,  and  the 
next  moment  my  wife  is  under  the  protection  of  a  new 
guide.  We  feel  our  way  along  mazy  passages,  — now 
upwards,  now  downwards, — that  might  be  mysterious 
corridors  leading?  to  "dunj^eons  beneath  the  castle 
jnoat,"  the  darkness  made  visible  by  primitive  lamps. 
Presently  we  are  on  the  floating  raft,  and  thence  we 
mount  the  steps  of  a  railway  car. 

What  a  change  of  scene  it  is  I  —  from  Arctic  cold 
to  summer  heat ;  from  snow  and  rough  ways  to  a 
dainty  parlor,  with  velvet-pile  carpets,  easy-chairs,  and 
duplex  lamps  ;  and  from  the  Danites  to  Irving,  Abbey, 
Loveday,  and  Miss  Terry.  They  welcome  us  cheerily 
and  with  Christmas  greetings. 

"Oh,  don't  mind  the  snow  ;  shake  it  off,  —  it  will  not 
hurt  us  !  Come,  let  me  help  you.  Of  course,  you  all 
wear  snow-boots,  —  Arctic  rubbers,  eh?  That's  right ; 
off  with  them  first !  "  And  before  we  have  done  shak- 
ing hands  she  is  disrobing  the  girls,  and  helping  them 
oif  with  their  wraps  and  shoes, — this  heroine  of  the 
romantic  and  classic  drama,  this  favorite  of  English 
play-goers,  who  is  now  conquering  the  New  World 
as  surely  as  she  has  conquered  the  Old. 

Every  one  in  the  theatrical  profession  knows  how 
kindly  and  natural  and  huma)i,  as  a  rule,  are,  and 
have  ever  been,  the  great  women  of  the  English  stag'e. 


274 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


\ 


> 


But  the  outside  public  has  sometimes  strange  opinions 
concerning  the  people  of  this  other  side  of  the  curtain, 
this  world  of  art.  Some  of  them  would  be  surprised  if 
they  could  see  Ellen  Terry  attending  upon  my  three 
fellow-travellers ;  giving  them  refreshment,  and,  later 
on,  helping  to  [)ut  them  to  bed.  They  would  be  inter- 
ested, also,  to  have  seen  her  dispensing  tea  to  the  mem- 
bers of  the  company,  or  sitting  chatting  in  their  midst 
about  the  journey  and  its  incidents.  Just  as  womanly 
and  tender  as  is  her  Desdemona,  her  Portia,  her  Ophe- 
lia ;  so  is  she  off  the  stage,  — full  of  sympathy,  touched 
to  the  quick  by  a  tale  of  sorrow,  excited  to  the  utmost 
by  a  heroic  story.  Hers  is  the  true  artistic  tempera- 
ment. She  treads  the  path  of  the  highest  comedy  as 
easily  and  with  the  same  natural  grace,  as  she  manifests 
in  helping  these  girls  of  mine,  from  New  York,  to  re- 
move their  snowy  clothes,  and  as  naturally  as  she  sails 
through  these  very  practical  American  cars  to  make  tea 
for  her  brother  and  sister  players,  who  love  her,  and 
are  proud  of  her  art. 


M 


IlAViNa  spent  an  hour  in  vainly  trying  to  couple 
Irving's  private  car  with  another  in  the  centre  of  the 
train,  the  guard  decides  to  attach  it  to  the  last  one. 
In  this  position,  which  eventually  proved  an  interesting 
one,  we  trundle  along  through  Jersey  City,  past 
rows  of  shops  and  stores,  on  a  level  with  the  side- 
walks, the  snow  falling  all  the  time.  Here  and  there 
electric  arcs  are  shedding  weird  illuminations  upon  the 


A   WILD  RAILWAY  JOURNEY, 


275 


unfamiliar  scenes.  By  the  lights  in  many  of  the  houses 
we  can  see  that  the  window-panes  are  coated  with  a 
thick  frost.  Now  and  then  we  stop  without  any  appar- 
ent warning,  certainly  without  any  explanation.  Dur- 
ing one  of  these  intervals  we  take  supper,  those  of  us 
who  have  not  retired  to  seek  such  repose  as  may  be 
found  in  a  railroad  sleeping-car,  —  an  institution  which 
some  American  travellers  prefer  to  a  regular  bedroom. 
Irving,  Abbey,  Stoker,  Loveday,  and  myself,  we  sit 
down  to  a  very  excellent  supper,  —  oyster-pie,  cold 
beef,  jelly,  eggs,  coffee,  cigars. 

"  It  is  too  late  to  tell  you  of  our  adventures  prior  to 
your  coming  upon  the  train,"  says  Irving.  We  will 
have  a  long  chat  to-morrow.  Good-night ;  I  am  going 
to  try  and  get  a  little  rest." 

He  lies  down  upon  a  couch  adjacent  to  the  apart- 
ment in  which  we  have  supped.  I  draw  a  curtain  over 
him,  that  shuts  off  his  bunk  from  the  room  and  the 
general  corridor  of  the  car.  You  hear  a  good  deal 
of  talk  in  America  about  "private  cars."  Without 
disparaging  the  ingenuity  and  comfort  of  the  private- 
car  system  of  American  railroad  travelling  let  me 
say,  once  for  all,  that  the  term  private  applied  to 
it  in  any  sense  is  a  misnomer.  There  is  no  privacy 
about  it,  —  nothing  like  as  much  as  you  may  have 
in  an  English  carriage,  to  the  sole  occupancy  of  which 
you  have  bought  the  right  for  a  railway  journey. 
On  an  American  train  there  is  a  conductor  to  each  car. 
Then  there  are  one  or  more  guards  to  the  train.  Add 
to  these  officials,  baggage-men,  who  are  entitled  to  come 
on  at  various  stations,  and  news-boys,  who  also  appear 


276 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


\l 


■\\ 


to  have  special  claims  on  the  railway  company ;  and 
you  count  up  quite  a  number  of  extra  passengers  who 
may  appear  in  your  private  room  at  any  moment. 

It  is  true  that  the  guard  of  your  car  may  exclude 
some  of  these  persons  ;  but,  as  a  rule,  he  does  not.  If 
he  should  be  so  inhospitable  to  his  fellow-man  there  are 
still  left  tlie  conductors  and  guards,  who  have  busmess 
all  over  the  train  at  all  hours.  There  is  a  passage-way, 
as  you  know,  right  through  the  train.  On  a  special 
car  there  is  a  room  at  each  end ;  one  is  a  smoking- 
room.  This  apartment,  with  or  without  your  permission, 
is  occupied  by  the  officials  of  the  train  ;  and  on  a  cold 
night  not  even  the  most  exacting  traveller  would  think 
of  objecting  to  the  arrangement.  But  it  is  easy  to  see 
that  this  does  away  with  all  ideas  of  privacy. 

At  1.30  the  train  comes  to  a  long  stand-still.  I  am 
reading.  The  colored  waiter,  a  negro  with  a  face 
given  over  to  the  permanent  expression  of  wonder,  has 
taken  a  seat  near  me,  in  the  opposite  corner  of  the  car. 
The  end  of  the  car  opens  right  upon  the  line  ;  the  door 
is  half  glass,  so  that  we  can  see  out  into  the  night  and 
away  down  the  track.  To  keep  the  out-look  clear  I 
occasionally  rub  the  frosty  rime  from  the  glass,  and  now 
and  then  open  the  door  and  clear  it  from  snow.  The 
negro  contemplates  me  through  his  wide,  staring  eyes. 
He  takes  a  similar  interest  in  the  guards  and  other 
officers  of  the  train,  who  come  through  the  cars  at  inter- 
vals, swinging,  as  they  walk,  lamps  of  singularly  artistic 
patterns  when  compared  with  the  English  railway  lan- 
terns. These  guardians  of  the  train  pass  out  of  the 
door  of  the  room  upon  the  line,  and  rarely  reappear 


A  WILD  JiAILWAT  JOURNEY. 


277 


except  when  they  come  back  again  right  through  the 
train,  passing  most  of  the  woukl-be  slcepors.  Irving 
does  not,  however,  appear  to  be  distiirbetl.  '  -^     • 

It  is  2.35  when  the  train  once  more  bcmns  to  move. 
For  nearly  an  hour  both  the  colored  servant  and  I  have, 
off  and  on,  been  watching  a  number  of  curious  demon- 
strations of  lights  away  down  the  line  behind  us.  First 
a  white  light  would  appear,  then  a  red  one,  then  a  green 
light  would  be  flashed  wildly  up  and  down.  The  negro 
guesses  we  must  be  snowed  up.  But  he  doesn't  know 
much  of  this  line,  he  says,  in  a  deprecatory  tone  ;  only 
been  on  it  once  before  ;  doesn't  take  much  stock  in  it. 
Then  he  shakes  his  woolly  head  mysteriously  ;  and  what 
an  air  of  mystery  and  amazement  is  possible  on  some 
dark  faces  of  this  African  race  1  We  move  ahead  for  five 
minutes,  and  then  we  stop  again.  There  is  a  clock  on 
the  inlaid  panel  of  the  car  over  the  negro's  head.  The 
time  is  steadily  recorded  on  the  dial.  It  is  2.45  when 
we  advance  once  more.  A  hoarse  whistle,  like  a  fog- 
horn at  sea,  breaks  upon  the  solemnity  of  the  night ; 
then  we  pass  a  signal-box,  and  a  patch  of  light  falls 
upon  our  vandow.  This  is  evidently  the  signal  for 
another  pause.  "2.50"  says  the  clock.  The  line 
behind  us  is  now  alive  with  lanterns.  White  lights 
are  moving  about  with  singular  eccentricity.  With 
my  fiice  close  against  the  glass  door-way  I  count 
six  different  lights.  ^  also  see  dark  forms  moving 
about.  All  the  lights  are  suddenly  stationary.  One 
comes  on  towards  the  train.  Our  guard  frantically 
waves  his  light.  Presently  we  stop  with  a  jerk. 
The  lights  we  have  left  in  the  distance  now  gyrate  with 


i 

I 


278 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA, 


the  satno  Inconsequential  motion  as  the  witch-Hres  of  a 
fairy  tale,  or  the  fiends'  liglits  in  the  opera  of  Robert 
le  Diahle.  Then  they  remain  still  again.  I  open  the 
door.  There  is  a  foot  of  snow  on  the  platform,  and 
the  feathery  flakes  are  steadily  falling.  A  solitary  light 
comes  towards  us.  The  bearer  of  it  gets  upon  the 
platform,  —  a  solitary  sentinel.  The  negro  looks  up 
at  me,  and  asks  me  in  a  gentle  kind  of  way,  if  I  ever 
use  sticking-plaster.  "Yes,"  I  say,  "sometimes."  A 
strange  question.  ISIy  reply  appears  to  be  a  relief  to 
him.  Do  I  ever  use  sticking-plaster  1  There  is  a  long 
pause  outside  and  inside  the  car,  as  if  some  mysterious 
conference  were  going  on.  "Was you  ever  on  the  cars 
when  they  was  robbed  ?  "  the  negro  asks.  "  No,"  I  say  ; 
"  I  was  not." — "  Been  on  when  there  was  shooting  ?  "  he 
asks.  "No."  —  "Has  you  ever  heard  of  Jesse  James 
and  the  book  that  was  written  about  him?"  —  "Yes," 
I  answer,  "but  never  saw  the  book."  —  "Dark  night, 
eh?"  — "Yes,  pretty  dark."  — "They  would  stop 
de  train,  and  get  a  shooting  right  away,  would  dem 
James  boys,  I  tell  you  I  Perfeck  terror  dey  was.  No 
car  was  safe.  Ise  believe  dey  was  not  killed  at  all, 
and  is  only  waiting  for  ncx'  chance." — "  You  are  not 
frightened?"  I  say.  "Well,  not  zactly  ;  but  don't 
know  who  dis  man  is  standing  dere  on  de  platform, 
and  nebber  was  on  any  train  of  cars  dat  stopped  so 
much  and  in  such  lonely  places  ;  and  don't  like  to  be 
snowed  up  eider.  I  spoke  to  de  brakesman  about  an 
hour  ago  ;  but  he  don't  say  much."  Thereupon  he  flat- 
tens his  broad  nose  against  the  window,  and  I  take  up 
**  John  Bull  and  His  Island  "  at  the  description  of  the 


A  WILD  RAILWAY  JOURNEY. 


279 


Christmas  pudding,  which  sets  me  thinking  of  all  the 
gloomy  things  that  may  and  do  happen  between  one 
Christmas  Day  and  another ;  and  how  once  in  most 
lifetimes  some  overwhelming  calamity  occurs  that 
makes  you  feel  Fate  has  done  its  worst,  and  can- 
not hurt  you  more.  This  thought  is  not  apropos  of 
the  present  situation  ;  for,  of  course,  there  is  nothing  to 
fear  in  the  direction  suggested  by  the  negro,  who  has 
worked  himself  up  into  a  condition  of  real  alarm.  Au 
the  same  time  the  dangers  of  snow-drifts  are  not  always 
confined  to  mere  delays.  The  newspapers,  on  the  day 
following  our  protracted  journey  for  example,  chroni- 
cled the  blowing  up  of  a  locomotive,  and  the  death  of 
driver  and  stoker,  through  running  into  a  snow-drift. 
The  accident  occurred  not  far  from  the  scene  of  one  of 
our  longest  stoppages. 

2.55.  The  man  on  the  platform  cries  "  Go  ahead  I  " 
and  as  the  car  moves  he  steps  inside,  literally  covered 
with  snow.  He  makes  no  apology,  but  sliivers  and 
shakes  his  coat. 

"  What  is  wrong?  "  I  ask. 

"Train  stuck  in  the  snow  ahead  of  us.  It  is  an 
awful  night." 

"  What  were  those  lights  in  our  rear  ?  —  one  in  par- 
ticular." 

"  That  was  me.  I  have  been  out  there  an  hour  and 
a  half." 

"  You  are  very  cold  ?  " 

"Frightful." 

"Have  a  little  brandy?" 

"  Think  I'll  break  up  if  I  don  V»      ^ 


280 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


I  gave  him  some  brandy.  From  the  other  end  of 
the  car  comes  the  guard. 

"Think  we'll  get  round  her  all  right  now?"  he  asks. 

"Oh,  yes,"  says  the  conductor  shaking  his  snowy 
clothes. 

The  guard  goes  out.  He,  too,  carries  a  weight  of 
snow  on  his  coat. 

Says  the  officer  (whom  I  have  just  saved  from  "break- 
ing up ") ,  "I  am  the  conductor  ;  but  if  anything  went 
wrong  they'd  blame  me,  not  him ;  am  sent  on  to  this 
train, — a  special  job." 

"  What  were  you  doing  out  there  so  long  ?  " 

"  Digging  the  points  out  of  the  snow,  to  push  these 
cars  on  to  another  track,  and  get  round  ahead  of  the 
train  that's  broke  down." 

"  And  have  you  done  it  ?  " 

"  Guess  so." 

It  is  three  o'clock  as  he  steps  once  more  upon  the 
platform.  At  3.5  the  train  stops  suddenly.  I  look 
out  into  the  black  and  white  night.  It  still  snows 
heavily.     At  3.10  the  conductor  returns. 

"  When  do  you  think  we  will  get  to  Baltimore  ?  " 

"At  about  ten."  > 

•i  "What  is  the  difficulty?" 

"  Trains  in  front  of  us,  trains  behind  us,  too.  You 
would  be  surprised  at  the  depth  of  the  snow.  A  gang 
of  men  clearing  the  track  ahead." 

At  3.10  he  goes  out  again  into  the  wild  night ;  this 
time  the  snow  on  the  platform  glows  red  under  the 
light  of  hifl  lamp,  which  exhibits  the  danger  signal.  A 
distant  whistle  is  heard.     The  conductor  is  pushing  the 


A  WILD  BAIL  WAT  JOURNET. 


281 


enow  off  the  platform  with  his  feet.  He  opens  the 
door  to  tell  me  it  is  drifting  in  places  to  "  any  heiglit." 
At  3.15  he  says  we  have  talien  three  hours  to  go 
twenty  miles.  Looking  back  on  the  track  the  rails 
show  a  black,  deep  line  in  the  snow.  Not  a  house 
or  a  sign  of  life  anywhere  around  us.  "  We  are  a 
heavy  train,  eight  cars,"  says  the  conductor.  The 
negro  stares  at  us  through  his  wide,  great  eyes. 
"At  Railway  we  hope  to  get  another  engine,"  says 
the  guard.  At  3.25  we  are  really  moving  along 
steadily.  "  About  twelve  miles  an  hour,"  says  the 
conductor.  The  negro  smiles  contentedly.  "W'; 
have  not  met  a  single  train  since  we  left  Jersey 
City,"  says  the  conductor ;  "  must  be  trains  behind 
us, — not  far  away,  either."  A  signal  station  with 
green  and  red  lights  slips  by  us.  The  swinging 
bell  of  an  approaching  train  is  heard.  The  conductor 
stands  on  the  platform  and  waves  his  lamp.  Our 
train  stops.  There  looms  suddenly  out  of  the  dark- 
ness behind  us  a  vast  globe,  white  and  glowing,  like  a 
sun.  It  comes  on,  growing  larger,  and  accompanying 
it  is  the  bang,  bang,  bang  of  the  engine's  bell,  a 
familiar,  but  uncanny,  sound  in  America.  A  number 
of  minor  lights  dance  about  on  either  side  of  the  ap- 
proaching monster.  It  does  not  stop  until  its  great 
single  blazing  Cyclopean  eye  looks  straight  into  our 
car.  Then  a  voice  says,  '*  Don't  you  want  some 
assistance?"  The  monster  is  a  good  Samaritan.  "A 
freight-train,"  says  the  conductor,  leaping  down  upon 
the  line.  "  Yes,  push  us  along."  I  follow  him  into 
the  snow,  up  to  my  knees,  and  the  flakes  are  falling  in 


282 


IMPEE8SI0N8  OF  AMERICA. 


blinding  clouds.  A  man  is  altering  our  signal  light. 
"Are  you  going  to  give  us  another  engine?"  I  ask. 
"  More  than  I  can  say,"  he  replies.  "  This  buffer's  no 
good ;  can't  push  against  that,"  says  the  guard  of  the 
other  train.  Then  our  conductor  goes  off  with  him 
into  the  rear.  It  is  3.40.  I  turn  once  more  to  "John 
Bull  and  His  Island."  The  negro  is  asleep.  We 
move  on  again,  and  gradually  leave  the  locomotive 
Cyclops  behind,  its  great,  sun-like  eye  getting  smaller. 
A  few  minutes  more,  and  it  follows  us.  We  pull  up  at 
a  switch-station.  There  is  some  difficulty  with  the 
posts.  I  go  out  and  lend  a  hand  at  getting  them  clear 
of  snow.  Return  very  cold  and  wet.  Happily  the 
car  is  kept  at  a  standing  heat  of  80°  to  90*^.  "This 
freight-train  started  an  hour  and  a  half  behind  us," 
says  the  conductor.  "  What  about  the  train  ahead  ?  " 
—  "Just  got  clear  of  it  at  last,  —  switched  us  on  to 
another  line.  Hope  we'll  get  on  now."  At  3.50  we 
are  really  going  ahead,  quite  at  a  brisk  pace.  Sud- 
denly another  light  behind  us  ;  suddenly  that  ominous 
bell.  It  reminds  me  of  the  storm-bell  off  Whitby, 
that  Irving  and  I  sat  listening  to,  one  autumn  night,  a 
year  or  two  ago.  The  conductor  has  passed  through 
the  cars.  Is  this  new  train  going  to  run  us  down? 
It  comes  along  swinging  its  bell.  Just  as  the  possi- 
bility of  a  collision  seems  ominous  the  new-comer 
veers  to  the  left  and  passes  us.  We  are  evidently  on 
a  single  line  of  roils,  with  swHch-stations  at  intervals 
for  trains  to  pass  and  repass.  Our  unhappy  train 
stops  once  more.  Another  comes  pounding  along, 
with  its  one  blazing  light  and  its  tolling  bell.     Passes 


A   WILD  RAILWAY  JOURNEY. 


283 


us  defiantly,  as  the  other  has  done.  The  new  comer 
is,  however,  only  an  engine  this  time.  "  Assistance, 
no  doubt,"  .1  say  to  myself.  I  open  the  door.  Tha 
snow  beats  in  with  a  rush  of  wind.  The  glass  is 
covered  with  ice.  All  else  is  quiet ^  —  everybody 
asleep  in  the  train.  The  negro  is  dreaming ;  he  pulls 
ugly  faces.  I  rub  the  ice  off  the  window.  The  con- 
ductor is  out  in  the  snow  with  several  lamps,  searching 
for  points.  He  is  kicking  at  the  rails  with  his  boots. 
A  man  joins  him,  with  a  shovel.  They  work  away. 
At  four  o'clock  our  train  groans  and  screams  ;  it  moves 
very  quietly.  The  conductor  plods  back  through  the 
snow.  We  stop.  At  4.5  the  conductor  and  several 
others  are  digging  on  the  line.  Clearing  points,  no 
doubt.  There  are  switch-lights  right  and  left  of  them. 
Now  the  conductor  climbs  once  more  upon  the  plat- 
form, leaving  a  red  lamp  away  on  the  track  behind 
him.  Another  train  is  heard  bellowing ;  another  bell 
following ;  another  great  lamp  gleams  along  the  track, 
smaller  red  lights  showing  upon  its  white  beam,  over 
which  the  snow  falls.  This  other  locomotive  comes 
right  into  us,  its  great  blinding  eye  blazing  like  a 
furnace.  The  negro  wakes  up  with  a  cry.  "  Ah,  you 
fool  I"  exclaims  the  conductor,  "what's  the  matter?" — 
"Got  help  now,"  he  says  to  me,  "at  last;  this  will 
push,  and  there  is  another  one  in  front."  The  rear 
engine  pants  and  pushes,  her  cow-catcher  literally  cov- 
ered with  a  enow-bank.  There  is  a  great  fuss  about 
coupling  our  car  upon  this  panting  assistant.  "  Is  it 
only  an  engine,  or  has  it  cars  to  draw?" — "It  had  a 


11 


1  h 


284 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


train  of  cars ;  we  have  left  them  on  a  siding.      We 
shall  be  all  right  now." 

"What's  going  on?"  is  suddenly  asked  in  words 
and  tones  not  unlike  a  voice  in  "The  Bells,"  — 
"what's  going  on?"  —  "We  are,  I  hope,  soon,"  I 
reply  to  my  friend,  who  has  pushed  aside  his  Astra- 
chan  cloak  and  the  car  curtains,  and  is  looking  curiously 
at  us.  The  negro  attendant  wakes  up  and  goes 
towards  him.  "  What  is  it  ?  "  —  "  Oh,  nothing,  sah  1 " 
says  the  colored  gentleman.  "Only  getting  another 
engine,"  says  the  conductor.  "What  for?"  asks 
Irving  (he  has  really  been  to  sleep).  "  To  check  our 
speed,"  I  say  ;  "we  have  beeu  going  too  fast." — "Oh, 
you  astonish  me  !  "  says  Irving.  "  Good-night,  then  I " 
The  clock  marks  4.30.  "Good-night,  indeed  I"  I 
reply.  "  So  say  we  all  of  us,"  murmurs  Loveday, 
as  I  pass  his  bunk  in  search  of  my  own ;  "  what  a 
time  we  are  having  I " 


',iiv^' 


y  - 


'..s»-:(>^ 


CHRISTMAS. 


285 


XIV. 


CHRISTMAS,  AND  AN  INCIDENT  BY  THE  WAY. 

At  Baltimore  —  Street  Scenes  —  Christmas  Wares  —  Pretty  Women  in 
"Rubber  Cloaks" — Contrasts  —  Street  Hawkers  —  Southern  Blondes 
—  Furs  and  Diamonds  —  Rehearsing  under  Difficulties  —  Blacks  and 
Whites  —  Nejjrro  Philosophy  —  Honest  Work  —  "The  Be.-<t  Company 
on  its  Legs  I  have  ever  seen  "  —  Our  Christmas  Supper  —  "  Absent 
Friends"  —  Pictures  in  the  Fire  and  Afterwards  —  An  Intercepted 
Contribution  to  Magazine  Literature  —  Correcting  a  Falsehood  — 
Honesty  and  Fair  Flay. 


I. 

Baltimore  street  is  the  Broadway  of  the  Monu- 
mental City.  It  also  suggests  Chestnut  street  in 
Philadelphia,  more  particularly  in  the  matter  of  sign- 
boards. A  city  of  stores  and  offices,  it  proclaims  its 
various  businesses  in  signs  of  every  conceivable  shape. 
They  swing  from  ornamental  brackets  over  door-ways, 
and  hang  right  across  the  sidewalk.  They  are  of  many 
shapes,  but  as  to  color  are  invariably  black  and  gold. 
The  inscriptions  upon  them  are  characteristic  ;  some  of 
them  are  strange  to  the  non-travelled  Enjjlishmen.  I 
note  a  few  of  them  :  "  Gent's  Neck  Wear,"  "  Fine  Jew- 
ehy,"  "Men's  Furnishing."  This  latter  is  the  general 
sign  of  American  hosiers  and  shirt-makers.  "  Dia- 
monds," "Fine  Shoes,"  "Dry  Goods,"  "Imported 
Goods,"  "Books,"  "Cheap  Railroad  Tickets,"  " Cheap 
Tickets  for  Chicago,"  "Saddlery,"  "Adams'  Express." 
To  these  are  added  the  names  of  the   dealers.     The 


286 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


"  Cheap  Railroad  Tickets  *'  is  a  branch  of  the  epecjative 
operations  in  theatrical  admissions.  "  Adams'  Express  " 
ip  a  familiar  sign  everywhere.  It  represents  tlie  great 
and  u'iiversal  system  of  baggage  distribution.  Adams 
and  otLcT  firms  will  take  charge  of  a  traveller's 
luggage,  or  any  other  kind  of  goods,  and  "  check "  it 
through  to  any  part  of  the  United  States,  possibly  to 
any  corner  of  the  world.  To-day,  in  honor  of  Christ- 
mas, the  ordinary  signs  have  been  supplemented  by 
such  attractive  proclamations  as  "Holiday  Presents," 
"Toys  for  the  Season,"  "For  Christmas  and  New 
Year's,"  "Home-made  Christmas  Puddings."  At  the 
doors  of  tobacco  stores  the  figure  of  a  North  American 
Indian,  in  complete  war-paint,  offers  you  a  bundle  of 
the  finest  cigars,  and  his  tomahawk  is  poised  for  action 
in  case  you  decline  his  invitation  to  "Try  them."  In 
New  York  this  colored  commercial  statuary  is  varied 
with  an  occasional  "  Punch,"  and  by  many  buxom  ballet- 
girls  in  short  dresses  and  chignons.  But  the  taste  of 
Baltimore,  Philadelphia,  Boston,  and  Chicago  runs  in 
the  direction  of  the  Indian.  Nowhere  do  you  see  the 
blackamoor,  once  popular  at  the  door  of  English  tobac- 
conists ;  nor,  except  at  Brooklyn,  have  I  seen  on  the 
American  side  of  the  Atlantic  the  kilted  Highlander, 
with  his  "mull"  as  a  sign  for  the  information  or 
temptation  of  snuff-takers.  At  Chicago  there  is  a 
Scotch  sculptor,  who  has  ornamented  the  exterior  of 
more  than  one  store  with  life-size  realizations  of  the 
heroes  of  some  of  Burns's  most  popular  poems.  Sev- 
eral of  these  are  represented  as  snuff-takers ;  but  the 
collection  includes  a    few  really   admirable    studies. 


CHRISTMAS. 


2«7 


The  city  architect,  by  the  way,  at  Chicago,  is  a  Scotch- 
man, and  he  is  responsible  for  the  fine  designs  of  the 
chief  public  buildings.  Baltin.ore  is  not  singular  in 
its  habit  of  pictorial  signs,  the  origin  of  which  may 
possibly  be  traced  to  old  English  custom.  The 
saddler  exhibits  the  gilded  head  of  a  horse ;  the 
watchmaker  hangs  out  a  clock ;  the  glover  a  hand ; 
the  dry-goods  stores  display  bright  rugs  and  car- 
pets. Now  and  then  the  cabinet-makers  show  their 
goods  on  the  sidewalks.  Many  stores  erect  handsome 
outside  glass-case  stands  for  exhibiting  knick-knacks  at 
their  door-ways.  The  fruit  shops  open  their  windows 
on  the  street.  Itinerant  dealers  in  oranges,  bananas, 
and  grapes  rig  up  tent-like  houses  of  business  under 
the  windows  of  established  traders  (for  which  heavy 
rents  are  paid,  notably  "  down-town  "  in  New  York) , 
and  all  this  gives  a  pleasant  variety  of  life  and  color 
to  the  street.  One  is  everywhere  reminded  of  the 
excellence  of  English  Manufactures,  "English  Tanned 
Gloves,"  "English  Storm-coats,"  "English  Cloth"; 
and  many  other  commercial  compliments  are  paid  to 
"Imported  Goods." 

It  is  three  o'clock  in  the  day,  and  while  Irving,  his 
lieutenant,  Loveday,  and  his  able  subalterns,  Arnot 
and  Allen,  are  getting  the  stage  of  the  Academy  of 
Music  into  some  kind  of  shape  for  the  Christmas-eve 
performance,  I  plod  through  the  rain  and  slush  to 
make  my  first  acquaintance  with  this  chief  street  of 
Baltimore.  It  is  curiously  picturesque,  in  spite  of  the 
weather  and  the  dirty  snow,  which  is  melting  and 
freezing  almost  simultaneously.     Here  and  there  the 


288 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


sidewalks  are  slabs  of  ice ;  here  and  there  they  arc 
sloppy  snow-drifts.  But  a  surging  crowd  covers  every 
foot  of  them.  The  roadway  presents  a  continual  block 
of  tram-cars,  buggies,  wagons,  carts,  and  carriages. 
Women  leaving  and  getting  upon  the  cars  plunge  in 
and  out  of  snow-heaps  and  watery  gutters.  It  is  a 
very  democratic  institution,  the  American  car.  The 
people  crowd  it  as  they  please.  There  is  no  limit  to 
its  capacity.  It  may  carry  as  many  persons  as  can  get 
into  it  or  stand  upon  its  platforms.  This  afternoon 
the  cars  are  humai"<  hives  on  wheels.  One  notices  that 
the  crowd  chiefly  consists  of  women.  They  fill  the 
sidewalks.  All  of  them  are  shopping.  They  are  all 
talking,  and  all  at  the  same  time.  This  is  a  peculiarity 
of  our  charming  cousins.  Their  costume  on  this  wet 
afternoon  is  a  very  sensible  one.  It  might  almost  be 
called  a  uniform.  A  black  water-proof  cloak  and  hood 
is  all  the  costume  you  can  see.  Often  it  is  a  pretty,  bright 
face  that  the  hood  encases.  Now  and  then  some  woman, 
a  trifle  more  vain  or  reckless  than  her  sisters,  wears  a  hat 
and  feathers  with  her  water-proof  cloak.  This  incongru- 
ous arrangement,  however,  helps  to  give  color  to  the 
crowd,  —  a  desirable  point  on  so  dull,  grey,  and  cloudy 
a  day  as  this.  The  men  who  move  about  here  are  mostly 
smoking.  They  do  not  appear  to  have  any  hand  in 
the  shopping.  The  ladies  are  evidently  doing  all  that, 
and  they  are  very  much  in  earnest.  Not  one  of  them 
but  deigns  to  carry  a  parcel.  The  children  are 
evidently  coming  in  for  precious  gifts.  In  one  shop 
window  "  Father  Christmas  "  himself  is  busy  showing 
his  toys  to  a  numerous   audience.      He  is  made  up 


CHRISTMAS. 


289 


with  white  flowing  locks  and  beard,  and  ruddy,  though 
aged,  features.  His  dress  is  an  ermine  tippet, 
scarlet  frock  trimmed  with  gold,  and  top-boots  of 
patent  leather,  —  quite  the  nursery  ideal  of  his  genial 
majesty.  Another  store  has  filled  its  window  with  a 
skating  scene,  ^i.  company  of  gay  dolls  arc  sliding 
for  their  very  lives.  Tliey  go  through  their  lively 
work  without  any  change  of  expression,  and  their 
gyrations  never  alter ;  but  the  spectators  change,  and 
the  store  within  is  full  of  bustle.  I  look  around  for  the 
poor  people  we  would  see  in  a  London  group  of  this 
character.  1  seek  in  vain  for  the  Smikes  and  Twists 
who  would  be  feasting  their  sunken  eyes  on  such  a  free 
show  in  London.  I  try  to  find  the  slipshod  women, 
with  infants  huddled  to  their  cold  bosoms.  They  are 
not  here.  A  boy  of  twelve,  with  a  cigarette  in  his 
hand,  asks  me  for  a  light.  Another  "  guesses  "  his 
"  papa  "  will  buy  "  the  whole  concern  "  for  him  if  he 
wants  it.  No  poor  people.  The  Irish  are  a  small  com- 
munity here.  How  one's  mind  goes  wandering  to  the 
West  End  of  London  and  to  the  Strand  and  Fleet  street, 
to  the  Seven  Dials  and  to  RatclifFe  highway,  where  (it 
is  five  hours  later  there  than  here)  Christmas  eve  is 
being  celebrated  with  such  contrasts  of  fortune  and 
variations  of  wealth  and  poverty,  of  joy  and  sorrow,  as 
make  the  heart  ache  to  think  u23on  I  Not  a  single 
poor-looking  person  do  I  note  in  this  long,  busy  street 
of  Baltimore.  Nobody  begs  from  me  :  and  the  hawkers 
on  the  sidewalk  offer  me  their  wares  with  an  air  of 
almost  aggressive  independence.  "  Japanese  silk,  ten 
cents,"  one  cries,  with  a  bundle  of  small  handkerchiefs 


290 


IMPJiESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


ii 


in  his  hand.  "  The  magic  mouse,"  says  another,  vending 
a  mechanical  toy.  "Now,  then,  one  dime  a  packet,"  is 
the  proposal  of  a  third,  offering  material  for  decorating 
Christmas  trees.  "  Try  'em  I "  almost  commands  a  fourth, 
as  I  pause  opposite  his  stand  of  peanuts.  If  you  buy 
nobody  thanks  you,  and  if  you  thank  the  vendor  he  is 
surprised,  and  will  probably  stammer  out,  "  You're 
welcome."  Yet  "  this  is  the  Cavalier  city,"  a  friend 
reminds  me,  "and  aristocratic  to  the  core." 

The  fruit-stores  are  bright  with  tropical  fruits ;  but 
not  with  the  roses,  carnations,  pinks,  and  smilax  creeper, 
so  plentiful  in  New  York,  Boston,  and  Philadelphia.  I 
pause  to  scan  the  faces  of  the  crowd.  It  is  a  popular 
fiction  in  England  that  the  women  of  the  South  are 
brunettes.  The  truth  is,  the  further  South  you  go,  the 
fairer  the  women,  and  the  more  delicate  their  complex- 
ions. On  Baltimore  street  I  observe  quite  a  number 
of  ladies  with  red  hair.  Many  of  them  are  blondes, 
who  might  have  been  natives  of  Lincolnshire.  They 
are  all  pretty ;  some  are  beautiful ;  and  their  charms 
certainly  obtained  no  fictitious  aid  from  their  dress 
or  surroundings.  Water-proof  cloaks  and  a  muddy 
street  could  not  help  them.  Baltimoreans  may  say  I 
should  look  for  beauty  in  North  Charles  street,  or 
Mount  Vernon  place,  if  I  expect  to  see  it  en  prome- 
nade. But  I  am  not  looking  for  it.  I  find  it  in  the 
great,  busy,  Christmas  crowd,  tramping  through  the 
snow,  and  buying  toys  and  candies  for  the  children. 
The  "carriage  ladies"  wear  furs,  and  those  everlasting 
diamond  ear-rings,  without  which  expensive  ornament 
few  American  women  appear  to  consider  themselves 


CHRISTMAS. 


291 


"real  ladies."    New  York  and  Boston  modify  the  fashion 

in  this  respect,  though  you  may  still  see  women  sitting 

down  to  breakfast  at  hotel  restaurants  in  silks,  satins, 
and  diamonds. 


n. 

While  I  have  been  studying  Baltimore  street  dark- 
ness has  fallen  upon  it.  The  gas-lamps  and  the  elec- 
tric arcs  are  beginning  their  nightly  competition  as  I 
retrace  my  steps  to  the  Academy  of  Music.  Irving, 
who  arrived  in  Baltimore  at  two,  after  a  journey  of 
forty-two  hours,  has  just  left  the  stage,  I  am  told, — 
"gone  to  get  a  little  rest." 

"  Have  you  had  a  rehearsal  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes  1 "  says  Loveday,  who  is  directing  the  last 
finishing  touches  to  the  throne-room  set  for  "  Louis  XI." 
"  Tight  work,  eh  ?  Got  into  the  town  at  two  —  scenery 
to  unpack — some  of  it  is  still  on  the  train.  But  we 
get  through  it.  The  chief  has  his  rehearsal  somehow 
—  finished  half  an  hour  ago  —  in  two  hours  the  curtain 
goes  up.  Had  to  do  it  all  ourselves.  Shall  have  to 
turn  Arnot's  men  into  Burgundians.  No  help  to  be 
had  of  any  kind.  It  is  Christmas,  you  know,  and 
Christmas  comes  but  once  a  year,  thank  goodness  I 
The  chief  carpenter,  who  is  also  the  gas-man, 
has  not  turned  up.  Some  of  the  other  fellows  are 
*  Merrie-Christmasing,'  also.  Tried  to  get  some  addi- 
tional assistance  in  the  way  of  labor.  Found  a  few 
chaps  loafing ;  asked  them  if  they  wanted  work. 
Said  they  did  not  mind.  Offered  them  good  wages. 
'Oh,  no,*  they  said  ;  'get  niggers  to  do  that  I '     They 


m 


292 


IMPItESSTONS  OF  AMERICA. 


m 


were  above  it.  I  acted  on  their  advice.  The  moment 
it  was  dark  the  *  colored  boys,'  as  they  call  themselves, 
knocked  off.  Said  they  never  worked  after  dark. 
'Night  is  the  time  to  rest  and  sleep,'  they  said.  Tor 
black  men,  perhaps,'  I  said ;  '  but  not  for  white.' 
Seemed  to  me  as  if  they  said,  'You  had  us  for  slaves  a 
good  many  years ;  it  is  our  turn  now.'  Funny,  eh? 
They  wouldn't  go  on  working.  However,  we  shall  be 
all  right.  It's  a  good  thing  I'm  not  the  only  Mark 
Taplcy  in  the  company,  don't  you  know  ;  and  the  gov- 
ernor, by  Jove  I  he  stands  it  like, — well,  like  only 
Henry  Irving  can  !  " 

Two  hours  later  Irving  is  received  with  rapturous 
applause  by  a  comparatively  small  audience.  "More 
power  to  them!"  he  says,  "for  they  have  left  cosey 
hearths  to  drive  or  tramp  through  the  slush  of  the  first 
snow  of  the  Baltimore  winter."  And  the  company,  all 
round,  never  played  with  more  spirit.  "It  is  the  only 
return  we  can  make  to  those  who  have  come  to  see  us 
on  such  a  night,"  said  Irving  to  several  of  them  before 
the  curtain  went  up,  "to  do  our  very  best."  And  they 
did.  Terriss  was  never  more  successful  as  Nemours. 
The  audience  was  cold  at  first,  but  as  the  dramatic 
story  unravelled  itself,  under  the  grip  of  the  master, 
they  caught  the  infection  of  its  grim  interest,  and  their 
applause  rung  out  heartily  and  long.  Irving  developed 
the  leading?  character  with  more  than  ordinarv  care, 
and  was  called  and  recalled  after  every  act,  — a  triple 
call  at  the  close  including  Terriss,  whose  manliness  of 
gait  and  manner  are  peculiarly  acceptable  to  every 
audience.        ' 


CHRISTMAS. 


•  \ 


293 


"  There  is  one  thing  I  obocrvc  about  this  company," 
said  the  Boston  manager  :  "  it  walks  well ;  it  is  the  best 
company  on  its  legs  I  have  ever  seen.  Our  young  men, 
as  a  rule,  particularly  in  costume,  turn  out  their  toes 
too  much,  or  are  knock-kneed ;  all  your  people  stand 
well  on  their  feet,  —  it  is  a  treat  to  see  them." 

"Yes,"  says  Irving, smiling,  when  this  is  reported  to 
him.  "  I  engaged  them  to  show  me  off.  But  did  not 
Emerson  say  that  the  Englishman  is,  of  all  other  people, 
the  man  who  stands  firmest  in  his  shoes?  There  is 
one  thing  to  be  said  about  our  cousins  on  this  sidcj 
—  they  do  not  stand  still ;  they  are  like  young  Rapid 
in 'A  Cure  for  the  Ileart-ache,'  —  always  on  the  move. 
And  when  they  are  behind  a  trotting-horse  how  they 
go  !  I  am  a  little  disappointed,  so  far,  with  the  sleigh- 
ing as  a  matter  of  speed ;  but  the  snow  was  too  soft 
when  we  took  our  first  drive  at,  Boston. 


ni. 

It  is  the  custom  in  America  to  open  the  theatres  on 
Christmus  day.  The  doors  of  the  Baltimore  house 
could  not  have  been  opened  in  more  wretched  weather. 
The  streets  were  impassable,  except  for  carriages,  or 
for  pedestrians  in  "Arctic  rubbers,"  or  on  stilts.  The 
snow  was  melting  everywhere.  Nothing  had  been  done 
to  clear  the  sidewalks.  They  were  full  of  treacherous 
puddles,  or  equally  treacherous  snow-drifts.  The  Turks 
blow  horns  at  certain  periods  of  the  year,  to  frighten 
away  evil  spirits.  I  know  of  no  explanation  for 
the  blowing  of  horns    at    Baltimore ;    but  the    boys 


294 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


indulge  themselves  in  this  exercise  to  a  bewildering  ex- 
tent at  Christmas.  Carol-singing  is  evidently  not  a 
custom  there,  nor  "waits."  I  heard  a  boy  shouting  at 
the  top  of  his  voice  the  refrain  of  a  popular  ditty :  — 

"  In  the  morning,  in  the  morning, 
When  Gabriel  blows  his  trumpet, 
In  the  morning." 

But  I  conclude  that  he  had  only  adapted  these 
modern  words  to  what  was  evidently  an  old  custom  at 
Baltimore  ;  for  he  blew  his  horn  vigorously  at  the  end 
of  the  refrain,  as  if  competing  for  supremacy  with 
Gabriel  himself. 

"You  are  right;  it  does  not  seem  like  Christmas," 
said  Irving,  as  we  sat  down  to  supper,  —  close  upon 
midnight,  —  a  section  of  that  same  party  which,  a 
year  previously,  had  gathered  about  the  round  table 
in  the  host's  Beefsteak  Club  room  at  the  Lyceum 
Theatre. 

"It  seems  so  strange,"  said  Ellen  Terry,  "to  play  on 
Christmas  Day  ;  that,  to  me,  makes  the  time  wholly  un- 
like Christmas.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is  the  snow, 
and  we  shall  have  an  English  Christmas  pudding,  —  I 
brought  it  from  home,  and  my  mother  made  it." 

"  Well  done  ;  bless  her  heart  I  "  said  Irving ;  "  but  I 
have  played  before  on  Christmas  Day.  They  open  the 
theatres  in  Scotland  on  Christmas  Day.  They  don't  pay 
much  attention,  I  am  told,  to  church  festivals  in  Bos- 
ton and  New  England ;  but  one  would  have  expected 
it  in  the  South,  where  they  are  observing  the  social 
character  of  Christmas,  I  learn,  more  and  more  every 


CHRISTMAS. 


295 


year ;  and  not  alone  to  the  snow,  but  to  that  fact,  I  am 
told,  we  are  to  attribute  the  small  houses  we  had  last 
night  and  to-night." 

"  Small  for  America  and  for  us,"  chimed  in  Loveday  ; 
"but  what  we  should,  after  our  experience,  call  bad 
business  here  would  be  very  good  in  England." 

"Yes,  that's  true,"  said  Irving;  "but  here's  holly 
and  mistletoe, — where  did  they  come  from?" 

He  was  looking  at  a  very  English  decoration  that 
swung  from  the  chandelier. 

"  From  London,  with  the  pudding,"  said  Miss  Terry. 

The  colored  attendants  took  great  interest  in  our  cele- 
bration of  the  festival.  If  they  could  have  put  their 
thoughts  into  words  they  would  probably  have  exprecsed 
surprise  that  artists  of  whom  they  had  heard  so  much 
could  entertain  each  other  in  so  simple  a  fashion. 

When  the  pudding  came  on  the  table  it  was  not 
lighted. 

"  Who  has  had  charge  of  this  affair  ?  "  Irving  asked, 
looking  slyly  at  everybody  but  Stoker. 

"I  have,"  said  the  usual  delinquent. 

"That  accounts  for  it,"  said  Irving.  "Who  ever 
heard  of  a  Christmas  pudding  without  a  blaze,  ex- 
cept, perhaps,  in  Ireland?  " 

"  Oh,  we'll  soon  light  it  up  I  "  said  Stoker.  "  Waiter, 
bring  some  brandy  !  " 

Presently  the  pudding  flamed  up,  to  the  delight  of 
the  African  gentlemen  who  served  it. 

"I  fear  there  is  no  sauce,"  said  one  of  the  ladies.      . 

"  No  sauce  !  Christmas  pudding  and  no  sauce  !  "  I 
exclaimed.     "  Here's  stage  management !  "  ' 


296 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


**  Sauce  I "  said  Stoker,  —  "  to  plum  pudding?  " 

"Yes,  always  in  England,"  said  Loveday. 

This  kind  of  mild  banter  was  checked  by  Irving  fill- 
ing his  glatis  with  champagne,  and  observing,  "After 
the  experience  of  last  year,  of  course  we  ought  not  to 
have  entrusted  Stoker  with  the  pudding.  However, 
let  us  make  the  best  of  it.  It  seems  a  very  good  pud- 
ding, after  all.  I  want  you  all  to  fill  your  glasses. 
Let  us  wish  each  other  in  the  old  way,  'A  merry 
Christmas  and  A  happy  New  Year,'  and  '  God  bless 
our  absent  friends  ! ' " 

Some  of  us  gulped  the  wine  a  little  spasmodically, 
and  some  of  us  found  it  hard  to  keep  back  our  tears. 
Who  can  pledge  that  familiar  toast,  and  not  think  of 
the  empty  chairs  that  seem  so  very,  very  empty  at 
Christmas  ! 

When  the  women  and  my  girls  had  been  escorted  to 
their  carriages,  and  sent  home  to  their  hotel,  with 
flowers  and  bon-bons  on  their  laps,  we  three  men  of 
the  little  party  sat  round  the  fire  and  talked  of  old 
times.  Irving  had  ordered  the  biggest  logs  the  hotel's 
wood-yard  afforded  to  be  heaped  into  the  grate.  The 
fire  cracked  and  spluttered  and  blazed,  and  had  in  the 
lower  bars  of  the  grate  a  solid,  steady  glow  of  white 
ash  that  was  truly  Englisli ;  and  I  think  we  each 
looked  into  it  for  a  time,  busy  with  our  own  individual 
thoughts  and  reflections.  Presently,  under  the  more 
cheerful  influences  of  the  season,  we  talked  of  many 
things,  and  finally  drifted  into  "shop."  The  chief 
subject  was  started  by  Irving  himself,  and  it  dealt  with 
the  novel  treatment  of  the  next  Shakespeare  play  which 


'Mmk 


CHRISTMAS. 


297 


he  intends  to  produce  at  the  Lyceum.  Irving  looked 
into  the  fire  and  saw  it  there,  scene  by  scene,  act  by 
act.     As  he  saw  it,  he  described  it. 

It  was  in  the  glamour  of  his  rosiest  pictures  that  I 
said  good-night,  to  have  the  witchery  of  the  fire-light 
dispelled  by  the  outer  bitterness  of  the  weather, 
and  the  lonely,  desolate  appearance  of  the  city. 
The  streets  were  now  as  hard  as  they  had  been 
soft ;  the  pools  were  ice,  the  snow  adamant ;  and 
icicles  hung  down  from  the  eaves  of  every  house.  Tlie 
roadways  glistened  in  the  lamp-light.  Not  a  soul  was 
abroad.  It  might  have  been  a  city  of  the  dead.  A 
strain  of  Christmas  music  would  have  redeemed  the 
situation.  Even  a  London  "  waits  "  band  at  its  worst, 
such  as  one  awakens  to  with  a  growl  on  cold  nights  at 
home,  would  have  been  a  God-send.  Not  a  sound ; 
not  a  footstep ;  no  distant  jangle  of  car-bells ;  not 
even  a  policeman ;  only  the  winter  night  itself,  with 
a  few  chilly-looking  stars  above,  and  the  cold,  hard, 
icy  streets  below. 


IV. 

It  is  a  long  way  from  Baltimore  to  Brooklyn,  — five 
or  six  hundred  miles,  —  still  from  Brooklyn  to  Chicago 
is  over  a  thousand ;  yet  these  were  the  journeys  that 
followed  each  other.  The  company,  as  you  already 
know,  travelled  from  Boston  to  Baltimore,  close  upon 
a  thousand  miles  ;  from  Baltimore  it  went  to  Brooklyn  ; 
and  from  the  city  of  churches  its  next  trip  was  to  the 
great  city  on  Lake  Michigan.     But,  not  to  get  ahead 


298 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


of  events,  we  will  pause  at  Brooklyn  ^ :  first,  to  say  that 
the  theatre  was  crowded  there  all  the  week ;  secondly, 
for  Irving  to  relate  an  incident  by  the  way  ;  and,  thu'dly, 
to  introduce  the  succeeding  chapter,  which  will  describe 
our  departure  therefrom. 

Irving  was  a  little  ruffled  during  his  journey  from 
Baltimore  by  the  sting  of  one  of  those  vagrant  gad- 
flies of  the  press  that  are  not  confined  to  the  American 
continent ;  but,  as  a  matter  of  course,  exist  in  that 
broader  field  in  large  numbers,  and  are  of  greater 
variety  than  in  the  narrower  limits  of  Great  Britain. 

"I  promised  to  write  a  little  gossip  of  my  expe- 
riences in  America  for  the  magazine,  and  I 

think  the  Baltimore  incident  is  a  very  good  subject, 
told  us  an  episode  of  the  trip,  with  just  a  few  lines  about 
my  reception.     What  do  you  think  ?  " 


M 


1 A  vfry  large  delegation  of  the  members  of  the  Hamilton  Club  received 
Mr.  Henry  Irving  in  the  rooms  of  the  club  last  night,  after  the  close  of  the 
performance  at  Ilaverly's.  The  honors  of  the  club  were  done  by  its  Presi- 
dent, Mr.  Samuel  McLean,  and  Mr.  Irving  was  introduced  by  him  to  the 
membei's  present.  Among  those  who  attended  to  do  honor  to  the  great 
actor  were  the  Rev.  Dr.  Putman,  the  Rev.  C.  Cuthbcrt  Hall,  the  Rev. 
Hany  Lacy,  Judge  Van  Cott,  Henry  E.  Pierrepont,  II.  E.  Sanger,  S.  B. 
Duiyea,  Dr.  Kissam,  Howard  Van  Sindcren,  J.  S.  T.  Stranahan.  Gordon 
L.  Ford,  Professor  West,  Alfred  C.  Barnes,  Dr.  McCorkle,  E.  A.  Packard, 
Amos  Robbins,  J.  Spencer  Turner,  Alex.  Cameron,  Edward  Barr,  Colonel 
Partridge,  John  Notman,  J.  S.  Noyes,  H.  E.  Ide,  Clinton  Tucker,  Ernest 
Jackson,  Raymond  Jenkins,  F.  Abbott  Ingalls,  "W.  T.  Lawrence,  Frank 
Hines,  Arnold  Hastings,  Gas.  Rccknagcl,  A.  Van  Sindercn,  Joseph  You- 
mans,  II.  E.  Dodge,  Dr.  Burge,  Robert  Ogden,  Leander  Waterbury,  V'"m. 
Sanger,  Dr.  Colton,  John  King,  11.  D.  Atwater,  and  John  Foord.  The 
reception  was  aiTanged  for  at  twenty-four  hours'  notice,  Mr.  Irving's  ability 
to  attend  not  being  known  to  most  of  the  members  of  the  club  before  3'e3- 
terday  morning.  Mr.  Irving,  who  was  accompanied  by  his  stage-manager, 
M".  Loveday,  and  by  Mr.  Joseph  Ilatton,  expressed  himself  as  extremely 
gi'atified  by  the  cordiality  of  his  reception.  —  Brooklyn  Union,  Jan.  4,  ISS-J. 


CHRISTMAS. 


299 


"Very  good,  indeed,"  I  said. 

"Ah  !  I'm  glad  you  like  the  notion,  because  I  have 
written  it.     Here  it  is  ;  I'll  read  it  to  you." 

"  The  Baltimore  man  will  feel  flattered  when  he  learns 
how  much  you  have  taken  his  '  Tribune '  despatch  to 
heart,"  I  said. 

"I  don't  care  for  that  at  all;  nor  would  I,  as  you 
know,  have  thought  of  answering  him,  only  that  he 
put  his  falsehood  into  so  ingeniously  damaging  a  shape. 
But  no  matter,  —  this  is  what  I  have  written. 


« 


ty 

r"' 
ly 

1/ 


AN  INCIDENT   OF   MY   AMERICAN   TOUR. 

"  The  Sunday  newspapers  of  America  are  the  largest 
and  certainly  the  most  amusing  of  the  week.  They 
were  especially  welcome  to  me  during  the  railway  jour- 
ney between  Baltimore  and  Brooklyn.  The  landscape 
was  striking  now  and  then  ;  but  we  were  travelling  lit- 
erally through  a  snow  world,  and  the  monotony  of  it 
was  a  trifle  tedious. 

"  I  turned  to  the  New  York  papers,  a  bundle  of  which 
had  been  brought  *on  board'  (this  term  is  applied  to 
railway  trains  as  to  ships  in  America) ,  and  was  not 
long  in  coming  upon  a  surprise.  It  was  in  the  shape 
of  a  special  telegraphic  despatch  from  Baltimore  to 
the  '  Tribune,'  of  December  30.  I  read  that '  Henry 
Irving  closed  a  very  successful  week  at  the  Academy 
of  Music  * ;  that  his  '  audiences  were  large ' ;  that '  his 
success  was  due  to  curiosity ' ;  that  ' "  Hamlet "  raised 
a  storm  of  criticism  about  his  new-fangled  ideas,  and 
when  the  ghost  appeared  on  the  stage  in  a  green  gown 
the  audience  roared  at  the  strange  sight,  to  the  evi- 


300 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


dent  embarrassment  of  the  ghost';  that  *  individually, 
however,  Henry  Irving's  stay  in  Baltimore  was  of 
the  pleasantest  nature';  and  that  'Dr.  W.  Crini,^  the 
well-known  surgeon,  gave  him  a  reception,  where  he 
proved  himself  an  entertaining  conversationalist.  He 
was  favorably  impressed  with  Americans,  but  said  they 
were  not  yet  fully  educated  to  appreciate  true  artistic 
ability  ;  they  were  progressing.' 


1 A  reception  was  given  to  Mr.  Henry  Ii-vingjthe  distinguished  English 
actor,  by  Dr.  \Vm.  II.  Crim,  at  his  residence,  185  W.  Fayette  street,  last 
evening.  At  the  close  of  the  performance  at  the  Academy,  Mr.  Irving, 
accompanied  by  his  stage-manager,  II.  J.  Loveday ;  acting  manager,  Bram 
Stoker;  J.  II.  Copleston,  and  James  H.  Plaser,  representing  Manager 
Abbey,  of  New  York,  and  Mr.  Joseph  Ilatton,  the  English  author,  drove 
to  Dr.  Crira's  residence,  where  they  were  received  by  the  host,  and 
presented  to  a  number  of  journalists,  representing  the  city  press,  and  other 
gentlemen.  Among  those  present  were  Messrs.  John  W.  McCoy,  Wm.  T. 
Croasdale,  John  V.  Ilood,  Innes  Randolph,  Ilariy  J.  Ford,  Henry  D. 
Beall,  C.  M.  Fairbanks,  E.  N.  Vallandigham,  Frederick  L.  Holmes,  Prof. 
Charles  G.  Edwards,  Samuel  W.  Fort,  Manager  of  the  Academy ;  Harry 
P.  Wilson,  HaiTy  F.  Powell,  Harry  J.  Conway,  Charles  F.  Mcany,  John 
W.  Albaugh,  of  IloUiday-street  Theatre ;  Chas.  Reynolds  and  W.  I.  Cook. 
The  affair  was  wholly  informal,  but  was  apparently  all  the  more  agreeable 
on  that  account.  Mr.  Irving,  upon  being  presented,  expressed  his  gratifi- 
cation at  meeting  the  representatives  of  the  Baltimore  press,  and  during 
the  evening  raauifiestcd  the  utmost  cordiality  of  manner.  He  is  a  delightful 
conversationalist,  and  for  a  couple  of  hours  entei'tained  groups  of  attentive 
listeners.  His  impressions  of  Baltimore,  as  far  as  he  had  seen,  were  veiy 
favorable,  and  he  was  much  pleased  with  the  audiences  that  had  greeted 
him  during  the  week  at  the  Academy.  Speaking  of  the  Academy,  he 
remarked  that  its  acoustic  properties  —  a  rare  quality  in  a  theatre  of  that 
size  —  were  among  the  veiy  best  he  had  ever  known.  About  midnight  the 
visitors  repaired  to  the  dining-room,  where  a  tempting  repast,  with  choice 
wines,  was  enjoyed.  Adjourning  thence  to  the  library,  the  guests  indulged 
in  a  fragrant  Havana,  and  another  hour  slipped  by  almost  unconsciously  in 
pleasant  social  intercourse.  During  the  evening  Mr.  lining  appeared  much 
interested  in  the  rare  collection  of  antiques,  art-works,  bric-a-brac,  and 
articles  of  virtu  that  adorn  the  pai'lor  and  library  of  the  genial  host,  and  in 
the  collection  of  which  he  has  spent  much  time  and  labor.  —  The  Day 
{Baltimore),  Dec.  28,  1883.  -  »•' 


CHRISTMAS. 


301 


"As  I  had  never  remembered  the  closet  Bcene  in 
*  Hamlet'  to  have  been  more  impressive,  and  particu- 
larly as  regarded  the  appearance  of  the  ghost ;  as  the 
question  of  curiosity,  per  se,  had  never  been  raised  by 
the  local  press  ;  as  on  our  first  two  nights  we  had  bad 
houses,  and  on  our  last  two  the  theatre  was  crowded ; 
as  the  remark  attributed  to  me  at  Dr.  Crim's  was  a 
false  report,  calculated  to  injure  me  in  the  eyes  of  the 
American  peoj/e,  —  this  newspaper  despatch,  I  confess, 
annoyed  me. 

"  I  consulted  my  friends  on  the  train  as  to  the  advisa- 
bility of  contradicting  the  latter  part  of  it. 

"The  general  verdict  was  against  me.  Said  an 
American  journalistic  friend,  *If  you  get  into  a  con- 
troversy of  that  kind,  it  will  be  never-ending.' 

"  *  But  it  is  not  a  question  for  controversy ;  it  is  a 
question  of  fact.  If  this  man's  statement  is  allowed  to 
go  forth,  I  simply  stand  before  the  American  people  as 
a  downright  prig.' 

" '  If  you  take  the  trouble  to  contradict  every  mis- 
representation of  what  you  say  and  do  you  will  have 
no  other  occupation.' 

" '  So  far  this  is  the  only  thing  I  have  cared  to  contra- 
dict ;  for  I  think  the  press,  as  a  rule,  has  been  generous 
to  me,  and  to  all  of  us.  As  for  the  point  about  the 
"  ghost,"  that  does  not  matter  ;  it  is  a  lie,  and,  even  if  it 
be  malicious,  it  will  be  corrected  wherever  we  play 
"Hamlet."  It  is  true,  our  friend  of  the  "Standard" 
may  publish  it ;  but  truth  will  prevail  even  against 
his  curiously  persistent  misrepresentations.' 

"*0h,  but,'  said  my  adviser,  and  he  was  backed  by 


302 


IMPBESSIONS   OF  AMERICA. 


others,  *  the  London  "Standard"  will  not  repeat  such 
obvious  nonsense,  and  the  American  people  will  not 
believe  a  mere  Baltimore  correspondent.  Take  no 
notice  of  it.' 

"  Thus  the  matter  rested  until  the  close  of  the  journey. 
I  hope  I  endure  criticism  with  becoming  fortitude, 
but  a  wilful  and  malicious  falsehood  reflecting  upon  my 
personal  conduct  frets  me.  I  therefore  resolved  to 
send  the  following  letter  to  the  editor  of  the  *  Tribune ' 
(who  had  devoted  much  valuable  space  to  my  work,  and 
whose  personal  courtesy  I  shall  always  remember)  ;  — 

"  '  Sir, — I  value  so  highly  the  good  opinion  of  the  American 
people  that  it  is  painful  to  me  to  see  any  estimate  of  their  edu- 
cation and  culture  misrepresented.  In  your  journal  of  to-day 
a  Baltimore  despatch  states  that  I  have  said :  "  The  Americans 
are  not  yet  fully  educated  to  appreciate  true  artistic  ability ; 
they  arc  progressing."  This  statement  is  utterly  untrue ;  and, 
while  I  take  this  opportunity  to  contradict  it,  I  feel  sure  that 
America  by  this  time  knows  me  sufficiently  well  to  believe  that 
I  am  incapable  of  uttering  such  conceited  nonsense,  or  of  the 
bad  taste  and  ingratitude  which  the  correspondent  desires  to 
fix  upon  me. 

•*  •  Faithfully  yours, 

"'HENRY  IRVING.' 


"Sometimes  instinct  is  one's  best  guide  in  dealing 
with  mere  personal  matters.  The  invidious  character  of 
the  newspaper  report  in  this  case  is  apparent,  and  my 
letter  was,  in  many  directions,  referred  to  as  a  well- 
advised  and  necessary  rejoinder  to  a  calumny.  The 
'Tribune'  mentioned  it  in  the  following  terms,  a  day  or 
two  afterwards :  — 


CHRISTMAS. 


303 


••  •  Mr.  Irving's  recent  card  in  the  "Tribune,"  concerning  the 
absurd  charge  that  he  had  disparaged  American  audiences,  was 
graceful  and  manly.  An  imputation  of  invidious  remarks  to 
those  persons  who  are  i^rosperous  in  the  public  esteem  is  one 
of  the  commonest  methods  of  malicious  detraction.  It  has 
been  used,  of  course,  against  Mr.  Irving,  who  is  altogether  too 
fortimate  a  man  for  envy  and  malice  to  endure.  An  old  re- 
mark, maue  by  the  poet  Samuel  Rogers,  applies  to  this  case : 
•*To  succeed  is  no  little  crime  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  fail; 
and  those  who  cannot  climb  will  endeavor  to  pull  you  down  by 
the  skirts."' 


**The  absurd  charge'  was  not  too  absurd,  I  learned 
later,  for  it  appeared  in  the  cable  correspondence  of  the 
'Standard.'  You  ask  me  for  a  few  notes  on  my  work 
in  this  great  country.  I  hope  you  may  consider  this 
personal  matter  of  sufficient  interest.  From  the  first 
I  have  been  received  with  unbounded  kindness ; 
from  the  first  I  have  played  to  lar^e  and  enthusiastic 
audiences.  My  most  sanguine  hopes  never  reached 
so  high  as  the  success  I  have  realized.  Here  and 
there,  prompted,  possibly,  by  the  preliminary  appeal 
of  the  '  Standard. '  to  the  American  people  '  not  to 
nail  my  ears  to  the  pump'  (as  the  *  Herald'  put  it 
in  commenting  upon  the  article),  and,  encouraged 
by  a  parchment  pamphlet  circulated  here,  some  few 
pressmen,  of  the  Baltimore  stamp,  have  had  their 
malicious  fling  at  me ;  but  I  have  reason  to  be 
deeply  grateful  to  the  American  critics  and  to  the 
American  people  for  judging  me  and  my  work  in  a 
spirit  of  honesty  and  fair  play.  The  study  of  a  life- 
time, and  the  conscientious  working  out  of  my  own 
convictions  in  regard   to    the    representation  of  stage 


304 


IMPIiESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


stories  in  a  natural  manner,  have  been  stamped  with 
the  approval  of  the  American  people ;  and  I  shall 
return  to  my  native  land  very  proud  of  their  artistic 
endorsement  and  their  personal  friendship. 

"HENRY    IRVING. 


"  There  1     What  do  you  tliink  of  it  ?  " 

"It  is  excellent,''  I  said,  "and  most  interesting;  but 
I  would  rather  see  it  in  '  Henry  Irving's  Impressions  of 
America '  than  in  the  " 

And  here  it  is  accordingly,  an  intercepted  contribu- 
tion to  an  English  magazine. 

"  I  thought,''  he  said,  "  the  editor  would  publish  it 
as  a  'P.S.,'  after  the  manner  of  other  contributions 
about  the  stage." 

"No  doubt,"  I  replied;  'but  I  think  we  will  sand- 
wich it  between  our  chapters  on  Baltimore  and  the  trip 
to  Chicago." 


FHOM  BROOKLYN  TO  CniCAOO. 


305 


XV. 

FROM    BROOKLYN    TO    CHICAGO. 

"Fussy"  —  The  Brooklyn  Fcny  —  Crossing  the  North  River  —  A  Pict- 
uresque Crowd  —  Brooklyn  Briilge  at  Night  —  Warned  against  Chicago 
—  Conservatism  of  American  Critics  —  Dangers  of  the  Road  —  Railway- 
Train  Bandits  —  An  Early  Interviewer  —  A  Reporter's  Stoiy  —  Life  on 
a  Private  Car  —  Miss  TeiTy  and  her  "  Luck"  —  American  Women. 


I. 

The  clocks  are  hammering  out  the  midnight  hour 
on  Saturday,  January  5th,  as  several  carriages  dash 
over  the  snowy  streets  of  Brooklyn,  one  of  them  made 
more  conspicuous  than  the  rest  by  the  antics  of  an 
attendant  dog.  It  is  a  black  and  white  fox  terrier, 
with  a  suggestion  of  the  lurcher  in  its  pedigree.  Busy 
with  many  tram-cars  and  a  variety  of  other  traffic, 
the  streets  are  bright  with  gas  and  electric  lamps. 
"  Fussy "  is  quite  a  foreigner  in  Brooklyn  ;  carriage, 
horses,  and  driver  are  strange  to  him.  One  looks  out 
to  see  the  sagacious  animal  leaping  along  through  the 
crowd,  never  heeding  the  calls  of  boys  and  men,  now 
making  short  cuts  to  head  the  vehicle,  and  now  dropping 
behind. 

"  You  will  lose  him  one  day,"  I  say  to  Fussy's  owner, 
by  way  of  warning. 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  says  Miss  Terry.  "  lie  follows  my  car- 
riage everywhere,  day  or  night,  going  to  the  theatre  or 
leaving  it,  strange  town  or  otherwise.     I  have  a  small 


1; 


Ill 


306 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


t#».- 


:    I] 


piece  of  carpet  for  him  to  lie  upon  in  my  dressing-room. 
Sometimes,  just  as  we  are  leaving  for  the  theatre,  my 
maid  pretends  to  forget  it.  But  Fussy  will  dart  back 
to  my  room  and  bring  it,  dragging  it  downstairs  into 
the  street,  and  only  dropping  it  by  the  carriage-door. 
One  <lay,  at  New  York,  he  leaped  into  the  hotel  elevator 
with  it,  and  out  again  on  the  ground  floor,  as  if  he  had 
been  accustomed  to  elevators  all  his  life." 

We  are  three,  —  Miss  Terry,  Irving,  and  myself. 
We  are  making  our  way  to  the  Brooklyn  ferry.  The 
boat  belonging  to  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad  is  waiting 
to  convey  us  across  the  North  river  to  the  Desbrosses- 
street  depot  of  that  well-known  corporation.  "  Fussy  "  is 
there  as  soon  as  we  are,  and  poor  "  Charlie,"  who  is  get- 
ting blind,  has  to  be  carried  aboard .  Nearly  all  the  mem- 
bers of  the  company  are  here  already.  They  are  a  pict- 
uresque group  in  the  somewhat  uncertain  light  of  dis- 
tant lamps,  and  a  world  of  stars  sparkling  in  a  frosty  sky 
that  seems  further  away  from  the  earth  than  our  English 
firmament.  Mr.  Terriss  looks  like  a  dashing  Capt. 
Hawksley  on  his  travels,  — fur  coat,  cap,  self-possessed 
air,  and  all.  Mr.  Tyars  wears  a  "Tam  O'Shanter" 
and  ulster.  He  might  be  the  laird  of  a  Scotch  county, 
just  come  down  from  the  hills.  The  grey-haired,  pale- 
faced  gentleman,  muffled  to  the  eyes  in  fur  cap  and 
comforter,  is  Mr.  Mead,  whose  imperial  stride  as  "the 
buried  majesty  of  Denmark"  is  repeated  here  in  re- 
sponse to  the  call  of  a  friend  in  the  cabin.  Mr. 
Howe  carries  his  years  and  experience  with  an  elastic 
gait,  and  a  fresh,  pleasant  face.  He  is  a  notable  figure 
in  the  group,  dressed  in  every  respect  like  an  English 


FROM  BROOKLYN  TO  CHICAGO. 


307 


h 


5) 


gentleman, — overcoat,  liat,  gloves.  He  has  a  breezy 
country  manner,  and,  if  one  did  not  know  him,  one 
might  Bay,  "  This  is  a  Yorkshire  man,  who  farms  his  own 
land,  going  to  the  West  to  have  a  look  at  Kansas,  and 
perhaps  nt  Manitoba."  Mr.  Ball,  the  musical  conductor, 
wears  his  fur  collar  and  spectacles  with  quite  a  profes- 
sional air.  Norman  Forbes  brings  with  him  ideas 
of  Bond  street,  and  Robertson,  who  sings  "Iley, 
Nonnie,"  to  the  swells  in  Leonato's  garden,  is 
wrapped  up  as  a  tenor  should  be,  though  he  has  the 
carriage  of  an  athlete.  The  American  winter 
lends  itself  to  artistic  considerations  in  the  matter  of 
cloaks,  coats,  leggins,  scarfs,  and  "head-gear."  The 
ladies  of  the  company  have  sought  the  hot  shelter  of 
the  spacious  saloon.  Miss  Terry  pushes  the  swinging- 
door. 

"I  shall  be  stifled  in  there,"  she  says,  retreating  be- 
fore a  blist  of  hot  air. 

"  And  starved  to  death  out  here,"  says  Irving. 

"  Well,  I  prefer  the  latter,"  she  replies,  taking  her 
place  among  the  crowd  on  the  outer  platform. 

"  Our  English  friends  would  complain  of  heat  at  the 
North  pole,"  says  an  American  gentleman  to  another, 
as  they  push  their  way  into  the  saloon. 

It  is  an  impressive  sight,  this  great,  rolling  flood  of 
the  North  river  at  midnight.  The  reflection  of  the 
boat's  lights  upon  the  tide  give  it  an  oily  appearance. 

"  Loohs  harmless  enough,  eh?  "  remarks  an  American 
friend,  answering  his  own  question ;  "  but  it  aint. 
The  strongest  swimmer  might  fail  in  breasting  the 
current  at  this  state   of  the  tide."  :   vni 


ff 


'308 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


HI 


Bright  electric  lamps  mark  out  the  graceful  lines  of 
the  Brooklyn  bridge.  The  twinkling  signals  of  river 
craft  are  seen  afar  off  beneath  the  span  of  the  suspended 
roadway,  along  which  gay-looking  cars  are  flashing 
their  white  and  red  and  green  lights.  We  pass  and 
meet  gigantic  ferry-boats,  as  large  as  the  Terrace  at 
Harley-on-Thames  would  be  if  converted  into  a  house- 
boat, but  a  thousand  times  brighter,  with  tier  upon 
tier  of  illuminated  windows.  Irving,  in  his  great 
Astrachan  overcoat,  contemplates  the  scene  with  deep 
interest. 

"  It  is,  indeed,  very  wonderful,"  he  says.  "  We 
could  give  an  idea  of  the  bridge  at  night  on  the  Lyceum 
stage ;  but  these  ferry-boats  would  bother  us,  eh, 
Loveday  ?  " 

"Not  more  than  they  do  now  with  their  heat  and 
cold.  Don't  you  think  Miss  Terry  ought  to  go  inside  ? 
It  is  very  bitter  here." 

"  No,  I'll  die  first  I  "  says  the  lady,  amidst  a  general 
laugh. 


n. 

Presently  we  run  into  dock,  and  are  as  firmly  part 
of  it  as  if  the  two  structures  were  one,  and  so  we  land 
and  struggle  along  in  groups  to  the  platform,  where 
our  special  train  is  to  start  for  Chicago,  a  run  of  one 
thousand  miles.  Mr.  Carpenter,  the  traffic  manager 
of  this  road,  is  here  to  receive  us.  He  and  Mr.  Abbey 
exchange  some  not  unpleasant  badinage  about  the 
tribulations  of  our  previous  journey  from  Boston  to 
Baltimore,  and  we  get  aboard.     Mr.  Blanchard,  the 


FROM  BROOKLYN  TO  CHICAGO. 


309 


president  of  the  Erie  Railroad,  has  lent  Mr.  Irving 
his  own  parlor-car  for  the  journey,  although  it  is  nec- 
essary that  the  company  shall  travel  over  the  Penn- 
sylvania road.  Pie  has  provisioned  it  also.  It  contains 
a  private  room  for  Miss  Terry,  a  special  room  for 
Irving,  and  sections  for  myself  and  other  friends. 
There  is  also  a  smoking-room  and  little  parlor,  besides, 
of  course,  a  well-appointed  kitchen.  Mr.  Blanchard's 
own  chef  is  in  the  car,  with  a  couple  of  servants ; 
they  are  colored  gentlemen,  and  very  attentive  to  our 
wants.  Miss  Terry  and  her  maid  go  straight  to  bed  ; 
so  likewise  do  the  other  occupants  of  the  car,  except 
Irving  and  myself.  We  think  there  may  be  much  rest 
for  mind  and  body  in  a  quiet  chat  before  turning  in  for 
the  night. 

"Besides,"  says  Irving,  lighting  a  cigar,  "  we  may 
not  be  in  the  humor  for  such  recreation  after  Monday 
night.     I  am  to  get  it  hot  in  Chicago,  they  tell  me." 

"I  believe  you  will  find  the  gate  of  the  West  wide 
open  to  receive  you,  and  the  people  of  Chicago  quick 
to  recognize  all  that  is  good  in  your  work,  and  not  a 
whit  behind  the  other  cities  in  its  appreciation  of  it." 

"They  can  have  no  prejudices,  at  all  events,"  he  re- 
plied ;  "there  has  been  no  time  for  tradition  to  take  root 
there.  They  will  not  be  afraid  to  say  what  they  think, 
one  way  or  the  other.  I  would  not  feel  anxious  at  all 
if  we  had  to  stay  tliere  a  month  instead  of  a  fortnight." 

"  I  should  not  wonder  if  reporters  meet  the  train  and 
ask  for  interviews  lonjj  before  we  arrive  at  Chicago." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  Well,  let  them  come.  I  am  told  that 
if  we  should  be  snowed  up,  there  are  much  worse  per- 


310 


IMPRESSIONS   OF  AMERICA. 


sons  to  fear  than  our  friends,  the  reporters.  Mr.  Abbey 
carries  pistols,  and  the  conductors  and  guards  are 
armed.  During  the  Bernhardt  tour  more  than  one 
plot  to  stop  Abbey's  special  trains  v/as  discovered. 
A  band  of  masked  men  were  disappointed  at  one  place, 
and  a  company  of  desperadoes  from  a  western  camp  at 
another.  One  of  Abbey's  agentf?  was  attacked  in  his 
sleeping-car,  and  badly  wounded,  by  men  who  sneaked 
on  board  during  a  stoppage  near  a  signal  station  j  but  he 
made  a  good  fight,  and  the  guard  coming  quickly  to  his 
aid,  the  fellows  got  off.  Travelling  as  we  did,  even  from 
Boston  to  Baltimore,  pulling  up  at  lonely  and  unpeo- 
pled points,  one  can  understand  how  easily  a  gang  of 
reckless  robbers  might  capture  a  train,  the  facilities  for 
getting  aboard  and  walking  right  through  the  cars  being 
largely  in  favor  of  success.  It  was  known.  Mi.  Abbey 
tells  me,  that  Madame  Bernhardt  carried  her  diamonds 
about  with  her ;  and,  acting  on  reliable  information,  he 
found  it  desirable  to  have  a  SK.j,rt  chief  of  police  on  the 
train,  who  had  each  end  of  her  car  protected  at  Tiight  by 
an  armed  guard.  No  such  honor  is,  I  suppose,  provided 
for  us ;  and  then  we  do  not  go  so  far  West,  nor  so 
near  the  frontiers,  as  she  and  her  company  went.  I 
suppose  Abbey  is  not  chaflfing  us,  as  Raymond  and  those 
other  fellows  tried  to  do  in  London  ?  "  ^ 


^  The  colored  gentleman  who  asked  me,  during  the  "  wild  railway 
journey  "  of  a  previous  chapter,  if  I  used  "  sticking  plaster,"  rcfcn-ed  to 
the  exploits  of  the  James  boys.  Their  mui'derous  adventures,  1  lind,  cover 
a  period  of  over  twenty  years,  beginning,  some  people  allege,  with  a  sort 
of  guerilla  warfare  during  the  war.  A  reward  was  offered  a  few  years  ago 
for  the  capture  of  the  leader,  Jesse  James,  dead  or  alive,  and  he  was 
treacherously  murdered  by  one  of  his  confederates,  who,  being  tried  and 
sentenced  to  death,  was  reprieved  and  rewarded  in  accordance  with  the 


FROM  BROOKLYN  TO  CHICAGO. 


311 


*'  Oh,  no ;  Abbey's  is  a  true  bill.  In  the  West  a 
detective  well  known  to  the  thieves  sat  bj  Madame  Bern- 
liardt's  coachman  whenever  she  went  out,  to  or  from 
the  theatre,  or  anywhere  else ;  and,  apart  from  the 
weapons  he  carried,  his  courage  and  skill  made  him  a 
terror  to  evil-doers.  The  western  bandit  is  singularly 
discreet  when  he  knows  the  reputation  of  the  police  is 
pledged  against  him  in  a  public  enterprise. 

State  proclamation.  He  and  several  other  membei'g  of  the  gang  are 
still  occasionally  before  the  courts,  I  believe,  on  various  charges;  some 
appealing  to  the  superior  power  of  the  law,  others  working  out  their  various 
sentences,  and  some  of  them  free.  One  of  their  most  daring  adventures 
is  a  tragedy  that  is  not  likely  to  be  forgotten  in  the  criminal  histoiy  of 
America.  The  story  is  to  railway  travel,  so  far  as  the  mere  robbery 
itself  is  concerned,  what  the  robbery  of  "  The  Lyons  Mail "  is  to  the  his- 
tory of  posting  in  France  and  England  a  centuiy  ago.  It  is  a  truly  dra- 
matic story,  in  two  acts.  The  first  scene  discovers  the  postmaster  and  two 
or  thi'ce  friends  of  the  village  of  Glendale,  at  a  flag  station  on  the  Kansas  City 
branch  of  the  Chicago  &  Alton  Railway.  It  is  a  pleasant  October  evening. 
Suddenly  they  arc  made  prisoners  by  a  band  of  twelve  masked  and  heavily- 
armed  men.  They  are  marched  to  the  little  railway  station,  where  the 
telegi'aph-operator,  an  old  woman,  and  the  railway  auditor,  are  added  to 
the  number.  They  comprise  the  entu'e  population  of  the  very  picturesque 
and  romantic  station.  The  telegi*aphic  instrument  is  destroyed,  and  the 
station-master  compelled  to  lower  his  signal  lights  and  stop  the  mail  then 
due.  This  ends  the  first  act.  The  second  is  the  arrival  of  the  train,  the 
sudden  and  expert  seizure  of  engine-driver  and  guard  (the  latter  battered 
almost  to  death  with  the  but-end  of  a  pistol) ,  the  overawing  of  the  passen- 
gers with  revolvers,  and  the  plunder  of  the  mails.  Horses  are  then  brought 
up  to  the  track,  the  men  mount  with  their  booty,  and  order  the  train  to 
proceed.  As  the  cara  move  away,  the  robbers  write  a  despatch  that  the 
telegraph-operator  is  directed  to  send  off  as  soon  as  his  instrument  is  in 
order :  —  "  We  are  the  boys  who  are  hard  to  handle,  and  we  will  make  it 
hot  for  the  boys  who  try  to  take  us.  Signed,  Jesse  and  Frank  James, 
Jack  Bishop,  Irwin  Cohens,  Cool  Carter,"  etc.  The  plunder  was  thu-ty 
thousand  dollars  in  gold. 


312 


IMPBESSIONS   OF  AMERICA 


III. 

The  Chicago  press  justified  my  forecast  of  its  enter- 
prise. The  story  of  one  of  its  representatives  (he  was 
a  baron,  by  the  way,  in  his  German  Fatherland,  though 
content  to  be  a  reporter  in  Chicago)  is  best  told  in  his 
own  way.  He  begins  it  with  rather  a  series  of  "  catch- 
ing" titles,  thus  : — 

A  Chat  with  Mr.  Irving. 

A  Daily  News  Reporter  climbs  into  the  English   Tragedian's 
Special  Train,  and  Interviews  him. 

Miss   Ellen  Terry   thinks  her  American  Sisters  "Very 
nice,"  but  she  has  not  yet  seen  Daisy  Miller. 

Then  he  goes  on  to  narrate  his  own  adventures,  and 
the  results,  and  without  much  exaggeration,  almost 
as  follows :  — 

"  Mr.  Henry  Irving,  the  notable  English  actor,  is  in 
Chicago  now,  and  so  is  the  *  Daily  News '  man,  who 
accompanied  him  part  of  the  way.  The  manner  in 
which  these  two  —  the  great  representative  of  the  British 
stage  and  its  latest  and  finest  fruition,  and  the  modest 
representative  of  the  '  Daily  News '  —  met  was  quite 
peculiar ;  and  it  may  be  amusing  to  a  discerning  public 
to,  for  once,  learn  that  the  interviewer's  path  is  not 
always  strewn  with  roses  when  he  sets  out  upon  his 
way  past  the  thorny  hedges  that  beset  his  road.  Who 
doesn't  pity  him  in  his  various  plights,  and  concede  that 
naught  but  the  reputation  of  Chicago  for  having  the 


ii  -^ 


FROM  BROOKLYN'  TO  CHICAOO. 


313 


pluckiest  and  most  irrepressible  reporters  did  not  make 
him  wilt  long  before  accomplisliing  his  task,  must  bear 
a  stone  in  his  bosom,  instead  of  the  usual  muscular 
fibre  called  a  human  heart. 

"  It  is  well  known  to  the  newspaper  fraternity  that 
Mr.  Irving  holds  the  interviewer  in  dread,  and  that 
nearly  all  the  so-called  interviews  with  him  published 
in  the  American  papers  have  been  spurious.  Duly 
appreciating  this  ftict,  the  'Daily  News'  man  had  not 
only  been  munificently  fitted  out  with  the  requisite  lucre 
by  the  business  department,  but  had  furthermore  been 
furnished  with  a  letter  of  introduction,  —  one  of  the 
combination  sort,  —  addressed  to  both  Mr.  Copleston, 
Manager  Abbey's  representative,  and  to  Mr.  Falser,^ 
couched  in  terms  to  make  the  flintiest  heart  melt.  Thus 
attired,  then,  the  emissary  boarded  at  Fort  Wayne  the 
train  which  had  carried  safely  thus  far  Ciesar  and  his  luck 
from  Jersey  City.  Entry  to  the  cars  was  effected  with 
difficulty,  the  rules  proscribing  any  but  the  theatrical 
company  for  whom  the  train  was  chartered  from  riding 
in  it.  Perseverance  and  gall  in  equal  doses  prevailed, 
however,  as  they  usually  do,  and  the  drowsy  Senegam- 
bian,  who  was  doing  the  Cerberus  act,  at  the  entrance 
of  the  car,  yielded  to  an  amount  of  eloquence  perhaps 
never  before  brought  to  bear  upon  his  pachydermatous 
anatomy.  As  soon  as  the  train  had  started,  a  still-hunt 
was  begun  for  the  two  prospective  victims.  Miss  Terry 
and  Mr.  Irving.  Alas  !  they  had  both  obeyed  nature's 
call,  and  were  at  that  moment  cveetly  slumbering 
oblivious  even  of  the  Chicago  interviewer.     Everybody 

>  Ml'.  Abbey's  excellent  business  manager  and  treasurer. 


314 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


m 


i 


else  was  likewise  sleeping,  even  unto  the  dusky  porters. 
Passing  up  and  down  the  train  from  end  to  end, 
nothing  but  the  cheerful  and  melodious  British  snore 
greeted  the  attentive  ear.  Here,  to  the  right,  it  was 
the  wheezing  note  of  a  snore  combined  with  a  cold ; 
there,  it  was  the  thundering  roll  of  a  snoro  basso  pro- 
fundo  ;  across  the  aisle  the  gentler  breathing  of  some 
youthful  British  blonde,  struck  the  expectant  senses,  and 
again  a  confused  jumble  of  snores,  of  all  sexes  and  ages, 
would  fall  *  with  a  dull  thud '  upon  the  tympanum  of 
the  investigator.  It  forced  itself  upon  the  lattcr's  con- 
viction that  it  would  be  a  difficult  mutter  to  attain  the 
object  for  which  he  had  been  deputed.  It  was  then 
after  three  o'clock.  The  train  was  due  in  Chicago 
at  eight,  and  it  looked  very  unlikely  that  Mr.  Irving 
would  overcome  his  aversion  to  interviewing  and  grant 
audience  to  a  stranger  at  such  a  time.  This  was  a  hiatus 
which  had  not  been  thought  of,  and  the  *  Daily  News  * 
man  sat  down  in  an  abandoned  chair  (on  which  were 
peacefully  reclining  some  articles  of  feminine  attire) ,  and 
reflected.  Reflecting,  he  caught  himself  in  a  nap,  and 
woke  out  of  it  with  a  slight  shudder.  He  gave  him- 
self a  poke  in  the  rib  and  muttered,  in  grave-like 
accents :  ^Nil  desperandum.^ 

"  The  next  move  in  the  direction  of  the  desired  inter- 
view was  a  vigorous  rap  administered  to  the  saddle- 
colored  individual  who  in  that  car  discharged  the  duties 
of  collecting  *  50  cents  all  'round.'  When  the  kicked 
one  had  gathered  up  his  portly  limbs  he  was  sent  on  a 
search  for  Mr.  Falser  first,  and,  that  proving  unavail- 
ing, on  a  hunt  for  Mr.   Coplestoi  .     The  latter,  after 


FBOM  BROOKLYN  TO  CHICAGO. 


315 


considerable  energy  had  been  expended  by  the  colored 
brother,  awoke  and  gave  vent  to  his  indignation  at 
having  been  thus  rudely  snatched  from  IVIorpheus's 
arms.  He  did  so  in  rather  vigorous  style  and  language, 
which,  under  the  circumstances,  was  hardly  to  be  won- 
dered at.  He  declined  to  come  forth  from  under  his 
blankets,  and  not  even  the  cutting  repartee  of  the  re- 
porter could  rouse  him.  He  said  he  had  been  but  an 
hour  and  a  half  asleep,  he  and  some  friends  in  another  car 
having  played  poker  till  very  late,  and  he,  the  speaker, 
having  lost  quite  heavily.  He  wouldn't,  couldn't, 
shouldn't  get  up  and  wake  Mr.  Irving,  and  an  inter- 
view, he  concluded,  on  the  train  was  an  impossibility. 
"*Here  is  a  fix,'  was  the  mental  commentary. 
Poking  his  hand  in  here  and  there  into  berths,  and  being 
startled  now  by  the  apparition  of  a  female  face,  then 
by  a  powerful  snort  of  defiance  from  some  male  actor, 
the  investigator  finally  groped  his  way  back  into  the 
rear  car,  one  of  the  palace  pattern,  placed  at  Mr. 
Irving's  disposal  by  Mr.  Blanchard  of  the  Erie  road. 
And  there  he  found,  at  last,  Mr.  Irving,  who,  being 
duly  apprised  of  the  mission  of  his  unwelcome  visitor, 
and  having  a  bit  of  pasteboard  with  the  latter's  ad- 
dress thrust  into  his  unwilling  palm,  murmured  plain- 
tively, but  politely,  that  he  would  see  him  before  reach- 
ing Chicago.  Later  on,  Mr.  Abbey's  services  were 
enlisted  in  the  same  cause,  and  his  promise  to  the  same 
effect  obtained.  Wearily  the  time  dragged  on,  till  but 
another  twenty-five  miles  lay  between  the  train  and  its 
destination.  Just  at  this  opportune  moment  the  great 
actor's  friend,  Mr.  Joseph  Hatton,  stepped  up  and  iu- 


316 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


vited  the  hungry,  wild,  and  desperate  minion  of  the 
press  to  partake  of  a  cup  of  coffee.  Gladly  this  was 
accepted,  and,  being  made  aware  of  what  was  wanted, 
he,  with  the  sympathizing  spirit  of  a  brother  journalist, 
said  he  would  try  and  have  Mr.  Irving  appear.  Mr. 
Hatton,  by  the  way,  is  the  famous  London  correspond- 
ent of  the  'New  York  Times,'  and  is  accompanying 
Mr.  Irving  for  the  purpose  of  gathering  material  for  a 
book,  in  which  jointly  the  impressions  of  American 
travel  of  himself  and  the  eminent  actor  will  be  depos- 
ited. While  he  went  off  to  wake  Mr.  Irving,  another 
trip  was  taken  to  Mr.  Abbey's  room,  in  doing  which, 
both  coming  and  returning,  the  reporter's  modesty 
underwent  the  severe  ordeal  of  passing  in  review  a 
large  array  of  British  beauties,  all  in  different  stages  of 
evolution  —  as  to  dress  —  and  all  talking  sauce  in 
choice  Cockney  English  at  him  for  his  'shocking 
impropriety.'  When  the  somewhat  cowed  Daily 
Newsian  returned  to  his  cup  of  coffee  he  found 
not  only  Mr.  Copleston,  the  surly  bear  of  a  few  hours 
ago,  transformed  into  a  most  amiable  gentleman, 
but  also  among  the  other  gentlemen,  Mr.  Irving 
himself. 

"  '  After  the  tedious  business  of  introduction  had  been 
srone  through  with  all  around ;  after  it  had  been  re- 
marked  that  the  trip  had  been  a  trying  one  to  them  all, 
as  not  being  used  to  these  long  journeys  in  their  tight 
little  island,  where  a  twelve  hours'  ride  was  considered 
the  utmost,  — after  saying  this,  all  felt  broke  up,  and, 
expressing  anxiety  as  to  the  Siberian  climate  of  Chi- 
cago, Mr.  Irving  took  out  his  cigar-case,  invited  his 


FROM  BROOKLYN  TO  CIHCAGO. 


317 


vis'd-vis  to  light  one  of  his  choice  weeds,  and  then 
prepared  himself  for  the  torture  to  be  inflicted. 

" '  What  is  your  opinion  of  dramatic  art,  especially 
when  comparing  the  English  with  the  American,  and 
both  with  the  French  tragedians?'  was  the  first 
query. 

" '  English  dramatic  art  is  improving,  I  think,  and  the 
prospects  for  it  are  brightening,'  he  said,  slowly  and 
reflectively.  'I've  seen  fine  acting  in  some  of  your 
American  theatres  —  very  fine  acting;  very  fine.' 

"'What  do  you  think  of  the  custom  of  mutilating 
and  cutting  up  and  abbreviating  the  pieces  of  classical 
authors  when  presented  on  the  stage  ?  In  "  The  Mer- 
chant of  Venice,"  for  instance,  the  last  act  is  omitted  so 
as  to  give  Shylock  the  exit.  Do  you  approve  of  such 
methods,  Mr.  Irving?' 

"'No,  I  do  not ;  but  the  custom  is  such  an  old  one 
it  is  very  difficult  to  alter  it.  The  cause  of  it  is,  I  sup- 
pose, that  our  forefathers  didn't  know  so  well,  nor  did 
they  read  Shakespeare  much.  It  is  but  very  recently, 
for  example,  that "  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  "  Richard  III.," 
and  "  King  Lear "  have  been  spoken  on  the  stage  the 
way  Shakespeare  wrote  them.  Of  the  last  one  Gar- 
rick's  version  has  been  used  for  a  century.  Yet  I  do 
not  think  it  right.  Shakespeare  is  difficult  to  improve 
upon.     Better  let  him  alone.' 

'"How  are  you  pleased  with  your  reception  in 
America  ? ' 

" '  Beyond  all  expectation  and  desert.  I  have  been 
treated  with  a  kindness,  courteousness,  and  hospitality 
that  have  been  really  touching  to  me.     And  this,  you 


318 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


know,  has  been  done  despite  the  fact  that  my  trip  to 
America  had  not  been  indorsed  by  all.  While  on  my 
way  across  the  Atlantic,  for  instance,  a  London  daily 
paper  published  a  leading  article  on  me,  suggesting  to 
the  Americans  not  to  receive  me  cordially ;  and,  not 
satisfied  with  this,  the  article  was  cabled  over  before 
our  arrival.  I  thought  this  unfair  and  ungenerous. 
I  like  America,  of  course,  though  like  is  hardly  the 
proper  term.  I  feel  deeply  grateful  to  the  American 
people  for  the  very  kind  manner  in  which  they  have 
treated  me.  But  you  must  come  to  the  theatre  to-night. 
I  am  sorry  that  jVIiss  Terry  will  not  play  to-night.' 

"  *  I  noticed  in  the  papers  that  you  have  always  ex- 
pressed yourself  in  a  very  chivalrous  spirit  when  speak- 
ing of  Miss  Terry,  sir.' 

" '  That  is  because  I  have  the  highest  respect  for  the 
lady,   both  for  her  character  and  her  talents.' 

"'Now,  Mr.  Irving,  shirking  your  modesty  for  a  mD- 
ment,  and  assuming  as  a  settled  fact  that  you  are  one 
of  the  most  eminent  actors  living,  what  made  you  such? 
What  cause  or  causes  do  you  attribute  your  good  act- 
ing to?' 

"'To  acting.' 

" '  What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  This  answer  is  not 
quite  clear  to  me.' 

"'I  merely  want  to  say  that  by  incessant  acting,  and 
love  and  study  of  my  art,  I  have  attained  whatever 
position  I  hold  in  my  profession.  This  is  a  leading 
cause,  as  it  is,  I  believe,  in  every  other  art.* 

"  *  What  made  you  choose  "  Louis  XI."  in  preference 
to  "The  Bells"  as  your  first  piece  here,  Mr.  Irving?' 


FItOM  BROOKLYN  TO  CIIIGAGO. 


319 


"  *  Because  it  takes  the  least  amount  of  stage  prepara- 
tion, that's  all.  That  rcniiuds  me  to  say  that  the  reports 
you  have  heard  about  my  gorgeous  scenery,  etc.,  you 
will  find,  I  think,  exaggerated.  Our  stage  decorations 
arc  quite  simple,  and  their  beauty  consists  merely  in 
their  nice  adjustment,  and  the  scrupulous  calculation  of 
the  effect  produced  by  them  on  the  audience.' 

"  Meanwhile  Miss  Terry's  maid  had  been  very  busy 
preparing  tea  and  buttered  toast  for  her  mistress,  tak- 
ing out  dainty  little  things  for  wear  out  of  a  big  lock- 
basket.  Being  repeatedly  asked  if  Miss  Terry  could 
not  be  seen  a  moment,  the  train  meanwhile  arrived 
in  Chicago,  and  most  of  the  other  actors  and  actresses 
having  got  off,  she  made  evasive  answers.  Sud- 
denly, however,  the  door  opened,  and  a  very  pretty  lady 
looked  briskly  around.  This,  then,  was  Miss  Ellen 
Terry !  A  beautiful  woman,  indeed  I  LustrOus  eyes 
of  rare  azure  ;  a  profuseness  of  wavy  blonde  hair,  long 
and  of  a  luminous  shade  and  silky  texture ;  the  form 
lithe,  yet  full,  every  motion  of  a  natural  supple  grace. 
She  was  shaking  hands  with  the  'Daily  News'  man, 
even  while  Mr.  Copleston  introduced  him,  and  then 
scurried  back  into  the  dark  depths  of  her  room,  where 
she  continued  wailing:  'I've  lost  my  luck!  I've  lost 
my  luck,  —  my  beautiful  horse-shoe  brooch,  wliich  I 
wouldn't  have  missed  for  the  world ! '  And  maid  and 
mistress  went  down  on  their  knees,  peering  into  every 
nook  and  cranny.  While  still  thus  employed  :  '  You 
see,  Miss  Terry,  the  Chicago  reporter  is  the  first 
introduced  to  give  you  a  hearty  greeting  to  this 
city,  and  to  hope  you'll  like  your  stay  here  as  well  as 


320 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


I  am  sure  Chicago  will  like  to  hold  you  within  hci 
walla.' 

"  *  Thanks  !  thanks  I '  said  INIiss  Terry,  and  then  con- 
tinued her  search  for  that  obstreperous  brooch. 

"  'And  what  do  you  think  of  America?  * 

"  iMiss  Terry  held  up  a  round,  well-shaped  arm 
appealingly,  and  merely  said-  *No,  no.  You  mustn't 
try  to  interview  me.  I  won't  stumble  into  that 
pitfall.' 

" '  How  do  you  like  the  American  women,  then?' 

"  *  Very  nice  and  pretty  they  are,  —  those  I've  seen,  at 
least.  1  think  we  must  say,  in  this  regard,  what  Lord 
Coleridge  did  :  *  They  can't  be  all  so  nice  and  pretty  ; 
1  suppose  I've  only  seen  the  nicest  ones.'  And  one 
thing  I'll  tell  you  which  I  have  not  seen ;  I've  never  set 
eyes  on  any  Daisy  Millers.' 

" '  Of  course  not,'  rejoined  the  reporter.  '  Who  ever 
heard  of  or  saw  a  Daisy  Miller  outside  of  a  book? 
That's  a  character  you'll  only  find  in  James's  novel,  — 
not  in  America,  Miss  Terry.' 

"  And  thus,  still  hunting  for  that  unfortunate  brooch, 
which  she  plaintively  called  her  *  lost  luck,'  and  so 
apparently  a  kind  of  voodoo  or  talisman,  the  reporter 
left  her,  momentarily  feeling  a  ray  out  of  the  sun  of 
her  glorious  eyes  lighting  up  his  departure.  It  was  a 
little  after  eight  o'clock  then,  and,  while  she  soon  after 
went  by  carriage  to  the  Leland  Hotel,  Mr.  Irving  put 
up  at  the  Grand  Pacific,  and  was,  two  hours  later, 
busily  arranging  things  at  Ilaverly's  Theatre." 


'^',is:  .vtt; 


THE  PR  Am  IE  CITY. 


321 


XVI. 


THE  PRAIRTE   CITY. 

First  Impressions  of  Cliicai^ro — A  Bitter  Winter  —  Great  Storms  — 
Thirty  Degrees  below  Zero  —  On  the  Shores  of  Lake  Michigan  — 
Street  Arehiteeturc —  Pullman  City  —  "Western  Journalism  —  Chicago 
Criticism  —  Notable  Entertainments  —  At  the  Press  Club  —  The  Club 
Life  of  America  —  What  America  has  done  —  Unfair  Comparisons  be- 
tween the  Great  New  A\Jorlcl  and  the  Older  Civilizations  of  Europe  — 
Mistaking  Notoriety  for  Fame  —  A  Speech  of  Thanks  —  Facts,  Figures, 
and  Tests  of  Popularity,  Past  and  to  Come. 


I. 

Through  piles  of  lumber,  into  back  streets  filled 
with  liquor  bars,  "side  shows,"  and  decorated  with 
flaming  posters,  into  fine,  stately  thoroughfares, 
crowded  with  people,  past  imposing  buildings  marked 
with  architectural  dignity,  to  the  Grand  Pacific  Hotel. 

"  It  is  as  if  Manchester  had  given  Greenwich  Fair  a 
blow  in  the  face,"  said  Irving,  —  "that  is  my  first  im- 
pression of  Chicago.  'The  Living  Skeleton,'  'The 
Tattooed  Man,'  'The  Heaviest  Woman  in  the  World,' 
'The  Museum  of  Wonders,'  with  the  painted  show- 
pictures  of  our  youth  ;  public  houses,,  old-clothes  shops, 
picturesque  squalor.  And  then  great  warehouses,  hand- 
some shops,  and  magnificent  civic  buildings,  —  what  a 
change  !  There  is  something  of  the  '  go  '  of  Liverpool 
and  Manchester  about  it.  If  I  was  ever  afraid  of 
Chicago,  I  am  afraid  no  longer.  A  people  that  have 
rebuilt   this    city   within    a   comparatively  few   years 


322 


JMPBESSI0N8  OF  AMERICA. 


must  be  great,  broad-minded,  and  ready  in  appreciat- 
ing what  is  good.  We  have  something  to  show  them 
in  the  way  of  dramatic  art,  —  they  will  'catch  on,' 
as  they  say  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic,  I  am  sure  of 
it." 

The  city  was  more  or  less  snow-bound.  Little  or 
no  effort  had  been  made  to  remove  the  white  downfall, 
either  from  street  or  sidewalk.  The  sun  was  shining. 
The  air  was,  nevertheless,  very  cold.  Within  a  few 
days  of  our  arrival  the  thermometer  had  fallen  to 
twenty  and  thirty  degrees  below  zero.  We  had  selected 
for  our  visit  to  America  what  was  destined  to  be  the  bit- 
terest winter  that  had  been  known  in  the  United  States 
for  over  twenty  years.  There  were  storms  on  sea  and 
land ;  storms  of  rain,  and  snow,  and  wind,  followed 
by  frosts  that  closed  the  great  rivers,  and  made  even 
Lake  Michigan  solid  for  ice-boats  a  dozen  or  twenty 
miles  out.  The  South  Jersey  coast  was  strewn  with 
wreckage.  Railway  tracks  were  swept  away.  At 
Cape  May  the  principal  pier  was  destroyed.  The  sea 
demolished  the  piles  of  Coney  Island's  iron  piers. 
At  Long  Branch  cottages  were  undermined  by  the 
water,  and  their  contents  carried  out  to  sea.  The 
well-known  dancing  platform  and  piazza  of  the 
Grand  Union  Hotel,  on  Rockaway  Beach,  were 
washed  away.  Terrific  winds  blew  over  Boston  and 
New  England.  A  little  fleet  of  schooners  were  driven 
ashore  at  Portland.  Vessels  broke  from  their  moorings 
in  the  adjacent  harbors.  Atlantic  City  had  boarding- 
houfiea,  stores,  and  dwellings  carried  away  by  high 
tides. 


THE  PRAIRIE  CITY. 


323 


The  mails  were  delayed  for  hours,  and  in  some  cases 
for  days,  on  the  principal  railroads.  Where  the  ob- 
stacles were  not  rain  and  flood  they  were  wind  and 
snow.  Lockport,  New  York,  reported  that  the  snow 
on  that  day  was  four  feet  on  the  level,  and  still 
falling.  Bradford,  telegraphing  for  Pennsylvania 
generally,  announced  that  fourteen  inches  of  snow  had 
fallen  within  a  few  hours,  the  weight  of  it  crushing 
in  many  roofs  and  awnings.  "The  narrow-gauge 
railways,"  ran  the  despatch,  "  five  in  number,  have 
been  closed  all  day ;  the  trains  are  stalled  a  few  miles 
from  the  city."  Even  at  Louisville,  in  Kentucky, 
navigation  was  suspended,  and  floating  ice-blocks 
were  battering  in  the  sides  of  steamers  lying  at  the 
wharves  of  Baltimore.  On  the  Rappahannock  river, 
in  Virginia,  a  ship  laden  with  corn  was  cut  down  and 
sunk  by  floating  ice.  These  and  kindred  incidents  oc- 
curred on  or  about  the  day  of  our  arrival  in  Chicago. 
The  record  of  the  few  previous  days,  judged  from  the 
official  reports  of  Washington,  and  the  ordinary  chroni- 
cles of  the  times,  was  a  very  remarkable  one,  even  for 
the  coldest  States  of  America.  In  some  places  the 
weather  had  been  the  coldest  known  for  more  than 
fifty  years.  Canada  had  had  the  most  extreme  ex- 
periences in  this  respect.  At  Winnipeg,  Manitoba, 
the  thermometer  had  fallen  as  low  as  forty-five  de- 
grees below  zero. 

On  the  day  we  were  travelling  to  the  prairie  city,  while 
the  thermometer  was  rising  in  that  section  of  the  coun- 
try, it  was  falling  in  the  eastern  and  southern  States, 
registering  thirty  degrees  below  zero  at  Whitehall,  New 


324 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


York.  The  Straits  of  Mackinaw,  connecting  Lake 
Michigan  and  Lake  Huron,  were  navigable  only  on  foot 
or  runners.  We  arrived  in  Chicago  on  Monday,  Jan. 
7.  On  the  6th  the  thermometer  registered  twenty-two 
degrees  below  zero.  Monday's  newspapers  congratu- 
lated their  readers  that,  "  the  wave  had  passed  over." 
Incidents  of  its  severity  were  curious  and  numerous. 
Hundreds  of  hogs  had  been  frozen  to  death  on  freight- 
trains.  The  Terre  Haute  express  from  Chicago  was 
snowed  up  for  thirty-one  hours.  At  fires  which  had 
broken  out,  water  from  the  engines  froze  as  it  fell,  and 
covered  the  buildings  with  strange,  fantastic  shapes. 

I  had  arranged  to  visit  Gunnison  (Colorado),  and 
other  mining  cities,  within  a  reasonable  distance  from 
Chicago  and  St.  Louis ;  but  was  persuaded  to  postpone 
my  trip  by  private  and  public  reports  of  the  storm  in 
those  regions.  One  day's  newspaper  (the  "  Daily-News- 
Democrat,"  of  Gunnison)  contained  startling  evidence 
of  the  difficulties  I  should  have  had  to  encounter. 
Within  a  few  days  twenty-seven  men  had  been  killed 
by  snow-slides  in  the  mountains  between  Ouray  and 
Telluride.  A  local  mail-carrier  was  among  the  vic- 
tims. All  the  available  snow-ploughs  and  engines  of 
the  various  districts  were  at  work  on  the  tracks.  En- 
gines were  helplessly  stuck  in  the  snow  on  the  Rio 
Grande.  "The  miner,"  remarked  the  "Daily  News" 
editor,  "  who  goes  into  the  mountains  at  this  season 
takes  his  life  in  his  hands."  I  remained  in  Cliicago 
with  Irving,  and  am  spared  to  chronicle  these 
things.  The  weather  was  sufficiently  cold  for  both  of 
us  in  Chicago.     It  varied,  too,  with  a  persistency  of 


»,? 


THE  PRAIRIE  CITY. 


325 


variation  that  is  trying  to  the  strongest  constitution. 
One  hour  the  thermometer  would  be  fairly  above 
zero,  the  next  it  would  be  far  below  it.  Men  went 
about  the  froz"!n  streets  in  fur  coats  and  caps,  care- 
fully protecting  their  ears  and  hands.  Along  the 
shores  of  Lake  Michigan  were  barricades  of  ice ;  they 
looked  like  solid  palisades  of  marble.  Here  and  there, 
where  tiny  icebergs  had  been  formed,  the  polar  bear 
would  not  have  looked  out  of  place.  It  was  strange 
to  see  the  ice-boats,  with  their  bending  sails,  literally- 
flying  along,  while  away  out  lay  ships  at  anchor. 
Mr.  Lyon  took  Miss  Terry,  Irving,  and  myself 
sleighing  along  the  lake  shore  and  upon  the  prairie 
beyond.  My  friends  were  delighted  with  the  novel 
excursion,  astonished  at  the  fine  boulevards  through 
which  we  passed,  amazed  at  the  possibilities  of  Chi- 
cago, as  they  realized  what  had  been  done  and  what 
space  had  been  laid  out  for  the  future.  A  forty-mile 
drive  through  great,  wide  boulevards  designed  to  en- 
compass the  city,  is  the  biggest  of  the  city's  schemes, 
and  it  is  in  vigorous  course  of  formation. 

"  One  is  forced  to  admire  the  pluck  of  Chicago,"  said 
Irving,  after  our  fir&t  drive.  "Twice  burnt  down, 
twice  built  up,  and  laid  out  anew,  on  a  i)lan  that  is 
magnificent.  Some  of  the  houses  along  ^i-airie  and 
Michigan  avenues  are   palaces.^     The  art   revival  in 

^  Miss  Ellen  Terry  is  said  to  have  a  broad  knowledge  and  high  apprecia- 
tion of  decorative  art.  During  tlic  past  two  or  three  days  she  has  been 
doing  Michigan  and  Prairie  avenues  in  this  city  witli  a  critical  eye.  "I 
noticed  a  good  many  houses,"  she  says,  "that  I  did  not  like  at  all,  but 
many  others  that  arc  truly  beautiful.  The  red  brick  ones  and  the  yellow 
marble  fronts  are  mostly  exquisite  in  design  and  color.  Hero  and  tliere 
Michigan  avenue  reminds  me  of  Brighton  in  England."  —  Z)ai7y  News. 


326 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


.1 


street  architecture  and  house  decoration  is  as  actively 
rife  here  as  in  London.  And  what  a  superb  stone  they 
have  for  building  purposes  in  Iticir  yellow  cream-col- 
ored marble  !  It  is  marvellous  to  see  how  they  have 
taken  hold  of  the  new  ideas.  The  Calumet  and  the 
Chicago  club-houses, — nothing  could  be  more  chaste 
than  their  decorations." 

One  day  we  went  to  Pullman  City,  an  industrial 
town,  akin  to  Saltaire,  near  Bradford,  in  its  scope  and 
ent« uprise.  We  were  invited  and  accompanied  by  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Pullman,  Miss  Terry,  ]\Ir.  and  Mrs.  Dexter, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  James  Runnion,  and  several  other  ladies 
and  gentlemen.  Going  out  in  Mr.  Pullman's  private 
car,  we  lunched  with  him  at  the  pretty  hotel  of  the 
novel  city,  and  afterwards  inspected  the  workshops  and 
principal  buildings. 

"The  story  of  the  conception  and  creation  of  this 
Pullman  City,"  said  Irving,  "interested  me  very  much, 
though  I  confess  the  method  of  it  all  strikes  me  as  some- 
what like  living  by  machinery :  the  private  houses 
being  massed,  as  it  were,  en  bloc;  the  shops  collected 
together  like  arcades ;  the  whole  place  laid  out  with 
geometrical  system  ;  and  yet  one  feels  that  there  are  fine 
principles  underlying  it ;  that  the  scheme  is  founded  upon 
wise  plans  ;  and  that,  from  a  moral  and  sanitary  stand- 
point, the  city  is  an  ideal  combination  of  work  and 
rest,  of  capital  and  labor.  Pullman's  idea  was  a  lofty 
one,  and  the  result  is  very  remarkable :  a  centre  of 
industry  that  should  give  to  labor  its  best  chance, 
with  capital  taking  its  place  on  a  platform  as  human  as 
labor.     That  is  the  notion,   as  Pullman  explained  it 


THE  PRAIRIE  CITY. 


327 


to  me.  What  a  square,  level  head  it  is !  Just 
the  determined  kind  of  man  to  be  the  author  of  a  new 
city  on  new  lines.  He  told  me  that  Charles  Reade's 
novel,  '  Put  Yourself  in  his  Place,'  had  influenced  him 
greatly  in  his  ambition  to  found  this  place  ;  that  it  has 
aiFected  all  his  relations  towards  the  people  under  his 
direction.  PoHtically,  Pullman  City  is  a  paradox. 
A  despotism,  it  still  is  very  democratic.  It  owes  its 
successful  administration  to  what  may  be  called  a 
benevolent  autocracy.  The  theatre,  I  am  told,  is  more 
prosperous  than  the  church  proper,  though  religion  is 
represented  by  several  earnest  communities.  The  idea 
of  giving  the  people  a  chance  to  buy  land  and  build 
cottage  homes  for  themselves,  at  a  reasonable  distance 
beyond  Pullman,  appears  to  be  a  good  one.  Pullman 
himself  may  well  be  proud  of  his  work.  It  is  worthy  of 
Chicago  and  the  West." 


II. 

In  spite  of  "  wind  and  weather  "  the  people  of  Chicago 
crowded  Havcrly's  Theatre,  where  Irving  and  Miss 
Terry  appeared  night  after  night,  for  two  weeks  ;  and 
the  critics  of  the  great  papers  of  the  West,  the  "Times," 
"Tribune,"  "Inter-Ocean,"  and  "Daily  News,"  were 
equal  to  the  occasion.  They  showed  a  knowledge  of  their 
work,  and  an  appreciation  of  dramatic  art,  as  illustrated 
by  Irving,  quite  in  keeping  with  the  spirit  and  ambition 
of  their  new  and  wonderful  city.  A  news-collector, 
having  in  view  the  prejudices  of  New  York  and  Lon- 
don, as  to  the  literary  and  journalistic  cultivation  of 
Chicago,  selected  an  enthusiastic  line  or  two  from  the 


328 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


.  I 


Chicago  notices  of  Irving  and  Miss  Terry,  with  a  view 
to  cast  ridicule  upon  western  criticism.  This  kind  of 
thing  is  common  to  news-collectors  on  both  sides  of  the 
Atlantic.  A  reporter  desires  to  please  his  editor,  and 
to  cater  for  his  public.  In  London,  believing  that 
New  York  will  be  stirred  with  the  report  of  a  hostile 
demonstration  against  an  American  artist,  he  makes 
the  most  of  the  working  of  a  rival  American  clique 
there  against  Lotta.  New  York  looks  down  loftily 
upon  the  art  culture  of  Chicago,  and  London  chiefly 
knows  Chicago  tlu'ough  its  great  fire,  borne  with  so 
much  fortitude,  and  for  its  "corners  in  pork."  The 
local  caterer  for  the  news  columns  of  New  York  and 
London  panders  to  these  ideas.  The  best-educated 
writer,  the  neatest  essayist,  might  appear  foolish  by 
cutting  unconnected  sentences  out  of  his  work,  and 
printing  them  alone. 

In  the  journalistic  literature  of  modern  criticism 
there  is  nothing  better  than  some  of  the  essays  on 
Irving  and  his  art  that  appeared  in  the  papers  of 
Chicaijo  and  the  West.  In  this  connection  it  is  worth 
while  pointing  out  that  the  absence  of  an  international 
copyright  between  England  and  America  forces  native 
writers,  who  otherwise  would  be  writing  books,  into 
the  press.  So  long  as  publishers  can  steal  or  buy  "for 
a  mere  song "  the  works  of  popular  English  authors 
they  will  not  give  a  remunerative  wage  to  the  (compara- 
tively unknown  writers  of  their  own  country.  There- 
fore, busy  thinkers,  —  men  and  women  with  literary 
inspirations  devote  themselves  to  journalism.  It  would 
be  surprising  if,  under  these  circumstances,  the  west- 


THE  PRAIRIE  CITY. 


329 


em  press  should  not  here  and  there  entertain  and 
instruct  its  readers  with  literary  and  critical  work 
as  much  entitled  to  respect,  and  as  worthy  to  live, 
as  the  more  pretentious  and  more  happily  and  fortu- 
nately placed  literature  of  London,  Boston,  and  New 
York.  The  American  authors  best  known  to-day, 
and  most  praised  in  both  hemispheres,  have  written 
for  the  newspapers,  and  some  of  them  liad  their  train- 
ing on  the  press  :  Bret  Harte,  Mark  Twain,  How- 
ells,  Aldrich,  John  Hay,  James,  Habberton,  Winter, 
Bryant,  Artemus  Ward  (I  leave  the  reader  to  com- 
plete the  list,  for  I  mention  these  name  en  passant 
and  at  random)  ;  and  how  many  others  are  coming  on 
through  the  columns  of  the  newspapers  to  take  up  the 
running,  who  shall  say  ?  The  Chicago  press  often  sac- 
rifices dignity  and  good  taste  in  the  licadings  with  which 
it  seeks  to  surprise  and  excite  its  readers.  But  this  is  a 
feature  of  Western  journalism  that  will  go  out  witli 
the  disappearance  of  the  lower  civilization  to  which,  in 
covering  the  entire  ground  of  its  circulation,  it  unhesi- 
tatingly appeals.  The  London  press  is  not  free  from 
the  charge  of  pandering  to  depraved  tastes  in  its  re- 
ports of  sensational  murders  and  divorce  cases,  though 
the  great  body  of  its  writers  and  contributors  no  doubt 
sit  down  to  tlieir  work  with  a  hiij^her  sense  of  their  re- 
sponsibility  t,j  the  public  than  is  felt  by  their  American 
contemporaries. 

"  Do  you  think  that  is  so  ?  "  Irving  asked,  when  I  was 
propounding  this  view  to  an  American  colleague. 

"Yes,"  said  the  journalist  addressed;  "but  I  think 
our  newspapers  are  far   more  interesting  than  yours. 


330 


IMPliESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


At  the  same  time  you  beat  us  in  essay-writing,  for  that 
is  what  your  editorials  are,  —  they  are  essays." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Irving,  "and  very  fine  some 
of  them  are." 

But  to  return  to  Chicago  criticism,  —  I  repeat  that 
among  the  best  and  most  appreciative  and  most  scholarly 
of  the  criticisms  upon  Irving  and  his  art,  in  England  and 
America,  are  the  writings  of  the  Chicago  journalists,  — 
McPhclin,  of  the  "Tribune,"  Barron,  of  the  "Inter- 
Ocean,"  McConnell,  of  the  "Times,"  and  Pierce,  of  the 
"Daily  News."  The  two  first  mentioned  are  quite  young 
men,  not  either  of  them  more  than  twenty-five.  I  am 
tempted  to  quote,  in  justification  of  this  opinion,  and 
as  an  example  of  Chicago  work,  the  following  extracts 
from  one  of  several  equally  well-written  criticisms  in 
the  "  Tribune  ": — 


It  is  true  that  in  every  department  of  art  the  power  of  the 
imagination  has  declined  with  the  advance  of  knowledge. 
The  Greek  actors  went  into  convulsions  through  excess  of  pas- 
sion. A  Roman  actor  in  the  midst  of  frenzied  recitation  struck 
a  slave  dead.  If  we  have  not  so  much  imagination  as  the  an- 
cients (a  fact  which  we  need  not  regret),  we  have  finer  sensi- 
bilities, more  penetrating  insight,  and  a  truer  consciousness  of 
life's  mystery  and  meaning.  The  art  of  to-day,  if  less  exuber- 
ant than  that  of  yesterday,  is  more  serene,  and,  above  all,  its 
methods  are  more  truthful. 

They  are  the  great  actors  who  have  kept  pace  with  the  most 
advanced  thought,  who  have  typified  in  their  art  the  spirit  of 
their  age,  who  have  inaugui'ated  eras.  Conservatism  is  stag- 
nation. In  its  infancy  the  art  of  acting  was  monstrous  ex- 
aggeration. This  was  natural,  for  it  was  fostered  in  the  child- 
hood of  the  world,  and  children  love  exaggeration.  When,  at 
last,  the  stilts  and  masks  were  thrown  away,  exaggeration  of 


TEE  PRAIRIE  CITY. 


331 


speech  was  preserved.  Actors  recited  their  lines  in  loud,  monoto- 
nous sing-song.  The  ranters  of  our  stage  to-day  are  the  lineal 
descendants  of  these  men.  Le  Kain  in  France,  and  Garrick  in 
England,  made  great  strides  towards  natural  methods  in  dra- 
matic representation.  The  reflective  genius  of  Kemble,  at  the 
beginning  of  this  century,  did  much  to  complete  the  revolution 
in  taste  begun  by  Garrick.  Kean  was  noted  for  the  splendor 
and  the  volume  of  his  power  rather  than  for  innovations  in 
methods  of  expression.  The  actors  who  followed  him  prided 
themselves  on  their  adherence  to  tradition, — tradition  for 
which  the  rest  of  the  world  cared  nothing.  These  artists  were 
content  to  stand  still  while  the  culture  of  the  century  passed 
by  them.  At  last  there  emerged  out  of  obscurity,  out  of  the 
jostling  multitude  of  mediocrity,  a  man  who  drank  in  the 
spirit  of  his  age, —  a  man  who  broke  down  the  rotten  barriers  of 
tradition ;  a  man  who  caught  the  intensity,  the  poetiy,  the 
artistic  realism  of  his  time ;  a  man  who  inaugurated  a  new 
epoch  in  the  art  of  acting.  Final  success  was  achieved  only 
after  a  long  and  bitter  struggle  against  conservative  prejudices. 

This  man  was  Henry  Irving. 

In  a  broad  and  comprehensive  way  his  position  on  the 
English  stage  has  been  defined  above.  After  witnessing  his 
impersonations  of  Louis  XI.  and  Shylock,  some  conclusions 
may  be  drawn  as  to  his  genius  and  his  methods. 

There  is  nothing  phenomenal  or  meteoric  about  this  new 
actor.  Henry  Ii-ving  is  not  what  Diderot  would  have  us  be- 
lieve a  great  actor  should  be,  namely,  a  man  without  sensi- 
bility. Diderot  said  that  sensibility  was  organic  weakness; 
that  it  crippled  the  intelligence,  rendering  acting  alternately 
warm  and  cold ;  and  that  the  great  actor  should  have  penetra- 
tion, without  any  sensibility  whatever.  But  Talma  called 
sensibility  the  faculty  of  exaltation  which  shakes  an  actor's 
very  soul,  and  which  enables  him  to  enter  into  the  most  tragic 
situations  and  the  most  terrible  of  passions  as  if  they  were  his 
own.  In  the  discussion  of  these  conflicting  theories  Henry 
Irving  has  always  taken  Talma's  view.  He  comes  nearer 
realizing  Diderot's  ideal  of  greatness  than  any  other  actor  of 
whom  we  have  record.  -■■'.. 


332  IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 

His  imagination  is  ijicturesqiie  almost  to  the  verge  of  sub- 
limity. His  fancy  is  lively  and  apparently  inexhaustible. 
When  ho  unrolls  before  us  the  varied-colored  robe  of  life  we 
look  in  vain  to  lind  one  color  missing.  It  is  a  fancy  that  is 
not  only  vivid,  but  that  is  most  poetic.  IIovv  touching  is  that 
return  of  Shylock  to  his  lonely  home,  Avalking  wearily  over 
the  deserted  bridge,  —  the  bridge  that  echoed  only  a  moment 
before  to  tlie  shouts  and  laughter  of  the  merry  maskers !  The 
old  man  walks  to  the  house  from  which  his  daughter  has  fled, 
knocks  twice  at  the  door,  and  looks  up  patiently  and  expect- 
antly towards  the  casement.  Then  the  curtain  falls.  The 
people  who  do  not  applaud  such  a  tender  touch  as  tliis  should 
stop  going  to  the  theatre. 

In  saying  that  Irving  is  realistic,  that  word  is  not  used  in  its 
grosser  sense.  Realism  should  be  the  union  of  the  ideal  and 
the  true.  Tliere  may  be  truth  in  Zola's  realism,  but  there  is 
no  ideality;  for  ideality  rejects  the  trivial,  the  vulgar,  the 
earthly,  and  grasps  the  essence.  There  may  be  ideality  in 
Mrs.  Burnett's  novels,  but  sentiment  is  substituted  for  truth. 
The  realism  of  Ilowells,  for  instance,  is  a  union  of  the  ideal 
and  the  true.  Irving's  ideals  are  in  harmony  with  the  realistic 
tendency  of  literary  thought,  because  they  are  drawn  from 
hunumity,  and  not  from  Olympus.  His  are  human,  not  heroic, 
ideals.  His  Louis  XL  is  as  true  to  nature  as  any  impersona- 
tion can  be ;  and  yet  it  is  ideal,  inasmuch  as  the  essence  of  the 
character  is  incorporated  in  action,  and  the  baseness,  the 
cruelty,  the  bigotry,  of  the  king  are  not  repugnant.  Here  is 
the  union  of  the  ideal  and  the  true.  If  a  man  like  Zola  were 
playing  Louis  XL  he  would  shock  and  disgust  us  by  a  portrayal 
not  essential,  but  of  superficial  grossness. 

In  attempting  to  estimate  Irving's  genius  one  cannot  catalogue 
qualities,  but  must  indicate  in  a  general  way  the  nature  of  that 
genius  as  it  is  judged  from  its  manifestations.  Irving  cannot 
be  classified,  for  he  is  the  leader  of  a  new  school  of  acting,  as 
Tennyson  is  the  leader  of  a  new  school  of  poetry.  They  who 
in  the  future  will  write  of  the  great  Victorian  Era  will  find, 
perhaps,  a  resemblance  between  the  actor  and  the  poet,  not 


THE  PRAIRIE  CITY. 


333 


only  because  both  have  opened  up  new  fields  of  art,  but  be- 
cause the  chief  characteristic  of  each  is  originality  in  lorm. 
If  Tennyson  is  the  i>oet  who  should  he  read  by  poets,  Irving  is 
the  actor  who  should  be  studied  by  actors.  The  idea  intended 
to  be  conveyed  is,  that  both  Tennyson  and  Irving  excel  in  per- 
fection of  detail ;  in  other  words,  of  technique,  or  form. 
The  great  poet  who  wishes  to  be  heard  in  the  future  must  give 
us  the  polish  and  tlie  intensity  of  Tennyson ;  (ho  actor  who 
would  bo  great  must  give  us  the  polish  and  the  intensity  of 
Irving. 

Any  line  in  Irving^s  acting  will  illustrate  his  intensity,  by 
which  is  meant  the  grasping  of  a  fuller  meaning  than  appears 
on  the  surface.  When  Shylock  is  ilattering  Portia  in  the 
trial  scene,  exclaiming,  '•  A  Daniel  como  to  judgment,"  etc., 
it  is  startling,  the  manner  in  wliich  he  leans  forward  suddenly 
and  whispers  with  venomous  unction  and  cunning  the  insidi- 
ous compliment,  '*  IIow  much  more  elder  art  thou  than  thy 
looks!"  The  words  are  very  simple,  but  their  ettects  depend 
on  the  intensity  of  meaning  with  which  they  are  uttered. 

Praise  has  already  been  accorded  Irving's  Shylock,  because 
it  is  a  type  of  the  medla3val  Jew,  interpreted,  not  according  to 
the  traditions  of  a  bigoted  age,  but  in  the  light  of  the  liber- 
ality of  the  nineteenth  century.  This  creation  is,  perhaps,  the 
best  proof  of  the  assertion  that  ^  nry  Irving  h  .s  embodied  in 
his  art  the  spirit  of  his  age,  and  therein  lies  his  greatness. 

Several  lessons  American  managers  will  draw  from  the 
success  of  the  Irving  engagement.  One  is  that  Shakespearian 
plays  must  not  be  mutilated  to  give  prominence  to  one  actor. 
Artistic  harmony  mast  not  be  sacritiGed  to  personal  ambition. 
Another  lesson  is  that  an  actor  must  not  undertake  all  alone  to 
act  a  play ;  he  must  have  a  company  of  actors,  not  a  company 
of  incompetent  amateurs.  A  third  is  that  Shakespearian  plays 
are  the  jewels  of  dramatic  literature,  and  their  setting  should 
surely  be  as  rich  as  that  given  to  tlio  extravagant  productions 
that  are  doing  so  much  to  vitiate  popular  taste. 

In  conclusion  it  may  be  remarked  that  it  is  gratifying  that 
Henry  Irving  in  his  American  tour  has  been  regarded,  not 
from  a  fashionable  or  a  national,  but  from  a  purely  artistic 


334 


IMPRESSIONS   OF  AMERICA. 


stand-point.  In  art  the  Spartan  and  tho  Athenian  are  brothers ; 
the  same  love  of  beauty  lives  in  Homo  and  in  Geneva,  in 
London  ana  in  New  York.  In  the  sunshine  of  art  the  national 
merges  into  the  universal,  and  tho  mists  of  prejudice  die  away 
upon  the  horizon  of  the  world. 


in. 

All  the  forecasts  that  warned  Irving  to  expect  in 
Chicago  a  coarse  fibre  of  civilization  and  an  absence  of 
artistic  appreciation  were  reversed  in  tlie  Prairie  city. 
Night  after  night  great,  generous,  entlmsiastic  audi- 
ences crowded  Haverly's  Theatre.  Quick  of  perception, 
frank  in  their  recognition  of  the  best  features  of  Ir- 
ving's  work,  they  were  cordial  in  their  applause,  and 
hearty  in  their  greetings  of  the  novelt}'-  of  it.  The 
critics  interpreted  the  sentiments  of  the  audiences,  and 
put  their  feelings  into  eloquent  sentences.  They 
showed  knowledge  and  sincerity  of  intention  and  pur- 
pose, and  some  of  thera  criticised  severely  the  carping 
spirit  in  which  one  or  two  Eastern  contemporaries 
had  dealt  with  the  London  actors.  The  hospitality  of 
Chicago  is  proverbial.  It  was  made  manifest  in  many 
ways,  —  in  offers  of  carriages  for  sleigh-riding,  of  ice- 
boats, of  railway  cars.  Irving  and  Miss  Terry  had  to 
decline  more  invitations  than  they  accepted.  Members 
of  the  company  were  also  entertained  at  breakfasts  and 
suppers.  After  the  first  night,  and  the  acceptation  of 
Irving  as  a  reformer  of  the  stage,  and  as  the  author  of 
what  to  Chicago  was  a  new  pleasure,  the  city  literally 
opened  its  doors  to  Irving  and  his  friends.  Among 
the  receptions  to  Mr.  Irving  was  a  breakfast  given 


THE  RRAIRIE  CITY. 


335 


by  Mr.  John  B.  Carson,^  at  which  the  Mayor  spoke 
of  the  pleasure  Chicago  experienced  in  Irving's  visit, 
and  upon  which  occasion  Mr.  Joseph  Med  ill,  the 
editor  of  the  "Tribune,"  who  had  seen  Irving  in  Lon- 

iThe  company  included  His  Worship  the  Mayor  of  Chicafiro  (the  Hon. 
Carter  Harrison) ;  G.  M.  Pullman  (of  Pullman  City) ;  J.  Medill  (editor  of 
the  "Tribune");  Murray  Nelson;  Mr.  Gaf?e  (banker);  Major-Gcncral 
Schoficld ;  Marshall  Field ;  Mr.  Dexter ;  Georj^c  Dunlap ;  C.  R.  Cummingrs ; 
General  A.  Stager,  and  J.  B.  Lyon.  The  menu  was  remarkable  for  its 
luxurious  elejjancc,  and  the  speakinj?,  though  informal,  and  in  no  sense 
prearranged,  was  notable  for  being  chiefly  confined  to  the  arts  and  their 
influenced  on  civilization.  Mr.  JohnB.  Carson  proposed  "  Health  and  con- 
tinued success  to  Henry  Irving,"  and  welcomed  him  to  the  West  in  terms  of 
hearty  friendship.  "  And  I  only  hope,"  ho  said,  "  you  will  one  day  come  to 
Quincy,  which  is  my  head-quarters ;  we  are  not  a  very  great  population,  but 
we  have  a  fine  theatre,  and  wo  enjoy  a  good  play."  Quiuf;y  has  a  population 
of  twenty-five  thousand,  is  beautifully  situated  on  a  limestone  bluff,  one 
hundred  and  twenty-five  feet  above  the  Mississippi  i  :ver.  Mr.  Carson  and 
his  friends  at  Quincy  sent  Mr.  Abbey  a  guai-antee  ol  :^f;4,000,  for  one  night's 
visit  of  the  Ii-ving  Company.  It  will  be  interesilr.y  to  add,  in  this  place, 
that  many  "  theatre  parties  "  came  to  Chicago,  from  distant  cities,  to  see 
Irving.  Some  of  them  travelled  all  day,  and  several  of  their  newspapers 
contained  reports  and  criticisms  of  the  performances.  The  Rockford 
"  Register,"  for  example,  printed  the  following  in  its  leading  columns : 
"  Remarkable  success  has  attended  the  performances  of  Ileniy  Ii-ving,  the 
celebrated  English  actor,  during  the  present  week,  at  Ilaverly's  Theatre, 
Chicago.  For  once  the  severest  critics  in  the  country  have  their  scalpels 
blunted  and  dulled  by  the  perfection  of  his  work  combined  with  the  exact- 
ness of  the  stage-setting.  There  has  never  appeared  an  actor  on  the  boards 
of  Chicago  who  has  received  such  lavish,  unreserved  praise  from  the  critics 
and  the  press.  It  is  doubtless  true  that  there  is  no  other  actor  in  the 
world  who  has  studied  so  thoroughly  all  the  minor  details  of  every  play, 
arranging  every  bit  of  scenery,  evciy  position  of  the  most  unimportant 
member  of  the  cast.  Nor  has  there  been  such  an  outlay  of  money  else- 
where by  any  one  to  secui-e  the  completest  perfection  of  eveiy  suiTound- 
ing.  The  result  is,  that  eveiy  play  to  which  this  student-actor  lends  his 
attention  becomes  correct  and  faithful,  historically  and  artistically.  He 
remains  in  Chicago  for  another  week,  and  those  of  our  citizens  who  love 
art  in  its  highest  sense  have  now  an  opportunity  that  is  not  likely  to  be 
offered  again  for  studying  the  man  whose  name  is  a  household  word  in 
England,  and  whose  fame  is  world-renowned.  Miss  Teny  likewise  ia 
winning  well-earned  laurels,  while  the  entire  company  of  English  actora 


336 


IMPBESSIONS   OF  AMERICA. 


(Ion,  as  well  as  in  Chicago,  proclaimed  him  the  one 
Shakespearian  actor  who  interprets  and  exliibits  the 
conceptions  of  the  poet  with  a  proper  naturalness, 
and  in  suc^h  a  manner  as  to  make  people  regret  that 
Shakespeare  could  not  revisit  the  world  to  see  what 
had  at  last  been  done  for  liis  plays.  The  health  of 
Miss  Terry  was  proposed  and  drunk  with  all  the  . 
honors ;  as  it  was,  also,  at  a  very  dainty  reception 
given  one  night  after  the  play  to  Miss  Terry  herself,  at 
the  Calumet  Club,  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  B.  JefFery,^ 
and,  on  a  later  occasion,  at  the  Leland  Hotel,  at 
a  supper  given  by  Mr.  Emery  A.  Storrs^  to  Mr. 
Irving.  Professor  Swing  was  among  the  speak- 
ers on  this  occasion,  and  during  the  evening  pleasant 


arc  Mr.  Ii*ving's  continuous  and  carefully  chosen  support,  and  rank  high  in 
their  respective  roles.  A  party  of  prominent  citizens  to  attend  in  a  body 
one  night  next  week  has  been  formed.  In  that  event,  Mr.  Perkins  states 
that  the  North-western  road  would  probably  make  special  rates. 

1  The  menu  cards  on  this  occasion  were  gems  in  the  way  of  printing  and 
binding.  They  were  exquisitely  encased  in  alligator-leather  and  silver. 
"SVith  each  of  them  was  a  guest-card,  on  which  was  written  a  poetic  wel- 
come, couched  in  bright,  humorous,  and  complimentary  terms  —  the  work 
of  the  hostess.  Many  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  position  were  present,  and 
the  aflair  was  one  of  the  plcasantest  in  the  histoiy  of  the  Calumet  Club. 

'At  eleven  o'clock  last  evening  Mr.  Emery  A.  Ston-s  gave  a  supper  in 
honor  of  Mi*.  Henry  Ii-ving,  at  the  Leland  Hotel,  and  pleasantly  enter- 
tained tbirty-live  well-known  gentlemen.  The  guests  assembled  about  ten 
o'clock,  in  room  twenty,  and  shortly  afterward  adjourned  to  Mr.  Storrs' 
suite  of  parlors  on  the  Michigan-.aveiiue  front  of  the  hotel.  Mr.  Irving 
and  Mr.  llatton  arrived  soon  after  eleven  o'clock,  and,  after  a  few 
minutes'  social  chat,  the  party  proceeded  to  the  small  dining-hall.  The 
arrangements  were  elaborate  and  perfect,  and  the  decorations  were  veiy 
handsome.  Lines  of  flags  of  all  nations  extended  from  the  four  corners 
of  the  i"oom,  crossing  one  another  just  under  the  dome  in  the  centre. 
Hanging  by  an  invisible  wire  from  the  electric  light  in  the  dome  was  a 
double-faced  floral  circle,  edged  with  smilax,  through  the  centre  of  which 
was  a  floral  bar.    On  one  side  of  this  was  the  name  "  Irving,"  and  on  the 


THE  PRAIRIE  CITY. 


337 


allusion  was  made  to  the  visit  of  Lord  Chief  Justice 
Coleridge,  and  to  English  writers  who  had  not  con- 
lined  their  attention  solely  to  th^  shortcomings  of 
Irving,  in  responding  to   the  toast  of  his 


Chicago. 


other  side  "  Terry,"  in  reel  carnations  upon  a  white  ground.  The  walls 
were  hung  with  the  Enj^lish  and  American  colors,  and  directly  behind  the 
guest's  scat  was  a  bust  of  Shakespeare,  over  which  was  looped  the  English 
flag,  caught  up  by  a  shield,  bearing  the  arms  of  Great  Britain  and  Ireland. 
Above  this  was  a  banner  bearing  the  following  inscription :  "  *  One  touch 
of  nature  makes  the  whole  world  kin'  —  Irving  and  Booth."  At  the 
opposite  end  of  the  room,  just  above  the  door,  was  a  similar  banner, 
inscribed  as  follows:  "*To  hold,  as 'twere,  the  mirror  up  to  nature'  — 
Ellen  Terry  and  Maiy  Anderson."  Immediately  opposite  the  entrance  to 
the  room  was  the  inscription,  "  Greeting  and  Welcome,"  and  over  the 
entrance  was  inscribed,  "  Not  that  we  think  us  worthy  such  a  guest,  but 
that  your  worth  will  dignify  our  feast."  To  the  left  of  this  was  a  banner, 
bearing  the  following :  "  Suit  the  action  to  the  word,  the  word  to  the 
action,  with  tlu  special  observation  that  you  overstep  not  the  modesty  of 
Niiture."  And  to  the  right  was  a  banner,  inscribed  as  follows :  "All  the 
world's  a  stage,  and  all  the  men  and  women  merely  playere ;  they  have 
their  exits  and  their  entrances."  The  table  was  arranged  in  the  shape  of 
a  "T,"  with  the  host,  the  guest  of  tlic  evening,  and  a  few  of  the  more 
favored  sitting  at  the  cross  of  tlie  "  T."  Immediately  in  front  of  the  seats 
of  Mr.  Irving  and  Mr.  Storrs  was  an  immense  basket  of  flowers,  — which 
was  sent  later  in  the  evening  to  ^liss  Terry,  with  Mr.  Storrs'  compliments, 
—  and  to  the  right  and  left  of  this  was  a  floral  bell,  suggesting  the  actor's 
favorite  play,  "  The  Bells."  In  the  body  of  the  "  T  "  was  a  huge  ^pergne  of 
fruit  and  flowers,  and  trails  of  smiiax  were  laid  the  length  of  the  cloth.  la 
front  of  each  one  of  the  thirty-five  plates  was  a  fragrant  boutontiiire,  and  a 
satin-covered  card  bearing  the  name  of  the  guest  diagonally  across  a  marine 
scene.  Uelicate-tintedglasscstotheright  of  each  plate  suggested  liquid  en- 
joyment to  follow.  The  following  is  a  list  of  the  guests  as  they  sat  at  ta])le :  — 
Emeiy  A.  Storrs,  Henry  Irving,  Joseph  Ilatton,  General  Schoficld, 
Professor  Swing,  Perry  II.  Smith,  Professor  Fraser,  William  Balcom,  F. 
B.  Wilkte,  F.  II.  Winston,  J.  D.  Harvey,  M.  E.  Stone,  Alfred  Cowles,  D. 
B.  Shipman,  W.  C.  D.  Grannis,  W.  P.  Nixon,  W.  S.  Walker,  Dr.  Jackson, 
Mr.  Phinney,  liconard  Hodges,  Canon  Knowlcs,  A.  F.  Seeberger  Louis 
Wahl,  S.  D.  Kimbark,  C.  P.  Kimball,  J.  L.  High,  Mr.  Clement,  Washing- 
ton Ilesing,  J.  M.  Dandy,  Mr.  Lewis,  Mr.  Griswold,  Mr.  Ha;  per,  Mr. 
Dewey,  Mr.  Thayer,  Mr.  Hord,  Mr.  Bacon.  After  supper  Mr.  Storrs,  in 
a  witty  prelude,  explaining  that  there  were  to  be  no  speeches, proposed  the 
health  of  Mr.  Irving.    The  famous  actor  having  responded,  Joseph  Ilatton, 


338 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


health,  described  his  sensations  on  entering  Chicago : 
"  I  came  warned  against  you ;  but  knowing  your  his- 
tory. When  I  saw  your  great  city,  and  felt  how  much 
you  had  done,  and  how  much  that  was  broad  and 
generous  and  courageous  belonged  to  such  enterprise 
and  ambition,  my  instinct  told  me  that  you  would  be 
with  me  in  my  work  ;  that  you  would,  at  least,  respect 
it;  and  that  if  you  liked  it  no  jealousies,  no  prejudices, 
would  stand  in  the  way  of  your  saying  so." 

The  Press  Club^  "  received  "  Irving  and  Miss  Terry 

who,  by  his  works  and  in  his  own  person,  is  well  known  in  Chicago,  was 
toasted.  Miss  TeiTy  was  not  forgotten  during  the  unstudied  and  informal 
eloquence  of  the  evening.  A  magnificent  basket  of  flowers  was  sent  to 
her,  with  the  respectful  complimeiits  of  the  host  and  his  friends. —  Trib- 
une and  other  newspaper  reports. 

1  The  reception  to  Henry  Irving  and  Miss  Ellen  Teiry,  by  the  Chicago 
Press  Club  last  evening,  was  a  brilliant  social  and  professional  event.  It 
was  a  graceful  recognition  of  Great  Britain's  greatest  histrionic  stars. 
Many  professional  people,  including  Mile.  Rhea,  Mra.  Jessie  Bartlett- 
Davis,  and  others  of  note  on  the  di'amatic  and  operatic  stage,  were  present, 
and  were  presented  to  the  distinguished  guests  of  the  evening,  together 
with  a  large  number  of  literateurs,  journalists,  and  members  of  the  bar. 
Miss  Teny  came  in  shortly  after  eleven  o'clock.  She  was  presented  to 
Mile.  Bhea,  and  the  two  artists  who  had  thus  met  in  conversation  for  the 
first  time  chatted  pleasantly  while  the  other  guests  gathered  about  them, 
and  were  introduced  as  occasion  permitted.  Miss  Terry  said  she  had 
witnessed  Mile.  Rhea's  acting  in  Loudon,  when  the  latter  first  began  to 
speak  English.  Miss  Tei'ry  talked  pleasantly  to  several  ladies,  who  ex- 
pressed great  delight  at  the  opportunity  thus  afforded  them  to  form  the 
acquaintance  of  so  excellent  a  woman,  and  so  talented  a  member  of  the 
dramatic  profession. 

Mr.  Irving  came  in  shortly  after  Miss  TeiTy  aiTived,  accompanied  by 
Joseph  Hatt»n  and  an  escort  from  the  Press  Club.  The  great  actor  was  a 
centre  of  attraction,  and  he  submitted  in  the  most  kindly  manner  to  the 
ordeal  of  introductions  and  the  pressing  multitude  of  guests  who  moved 
about  the  rooms.  About  midnight  lunch  was  served.  It  was  nearly  one 
o'clock  when  Mr.  Irving,  Miss  Teny,  and  Mr.  Temss  departed.  Most  of 
the  company  remained,  and  listened  to  some  fine  singing  by  George  Sweet 
and  Miss  Lena  Hastreiter.    It  waa  nearly  two  o'clock  before  the  other 


THE  PRAIRIE  CITY. 


339 


and  several  members  of  the  Lyceum  company.  "  Noth- 
ing could  have  been  conceived  or  carried  out  in  a  more 
frank  and  fiiendly  spirit  than  the  Press  Club  recep- 
tion," said  Irving,  on  returning  to  his  hotel ;  "  no  pre- 
tence, no  affectation,  a  hearty  crowd.  They  treated 
us  as  if  we  had  known  each  other  all  our  lives,  and  I 
begin  to  feel  as  if  they  were  old  friends.  It  is  the 
absence  of  caste  in  America,  I  conclude,  that  gives 
a  meeting  of  this  kind  its  real  cordiality.  Nobody 
is  afraid  of  anybody  else ;  there  is  an  absence 
of  self-restraint,  and,  at  the  same  time,  of  self-con- 
sciousness. I  liked  them,  too,  for  not  apologizing 
for  their  very  unpretentious  rooms ;  and  I  think  they 
are  right  in  adhering  to  the  principles  on  which  the  club 
is  founded,  that  it  shall  be  purely  a  press  club.  Do 
you  remember  the  evening  at  the  journalists'  club  in 
Philadelphia  ?  But  that  was  a  man's  night  only.  Very 
delightful  too,  eh  ?  I  thought  so.  Indeed,  the  club  life 
of  America,  from  the  humblest  to  tho  highest,  is  charac- 
terized by  a  cordiality  and  freedom  tiiat  is  glorious  ;  I 


guests  dispersed.  Among  the  many  present  were  the  following :  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Will.  J.  Davis,  Miss  Grace  Cartland,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  James  W.  Scott,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Franc  B.  Wilkie,  Miss  Ada  M.  Dunne,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Leo  Can- 
man,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  Brodcrick,  Professor  Swing,  Emery  A.  Storrs, 
Miss  3Iay  Waldren,  C.  P.  Dresser,  W.  D.  Eaton,  Walter  ^toadowcroft,  E. 
A.  Barron,  ElliDtt  Durand,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  C.  II.  McConncll,  R.  J.  Murphy, 
Judge  and  Mrs.  Bradwell,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  B.  JcfTcrv,  John  M.  Aycr, 
Professor  Bastin,  Col.  and  Mrs.  Nat.  Reed,  John  A.  Hamlin,  John  Ilaml)- 
line,  Mr.and  Mrs.  F.  A.  Rice,  Mr.  and  ^Irs.  Frank  C.  Cooper,  E.  P.  Hall, 
Professor  R.  Welsh  and  Mrs.  Welsh,  Miss  Bessie  Bradwell,  Henry  W. 
Thomson,  Miss  Kate  McPhelin,  Mi's.  McPhclin,  Mr.  and  Mi's.  Wash. 
Hesing,  Miss  Gertie  Buckley,  Miss  Lillian  Powell,  Miss  Clark,  Al.  Clark, 
H.  D.  Russell,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  F.  G.  Logan,  Miss  Van  luwegan,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  T.  Z.  Cowles,  J.  M.  Dandy,  and  T.  C.  MacMillan.  —  Morning  Newi- 


340 


IMPBESSJONS  OF  AMERICA. 


think  80.  No  nonsense,  no  unnecessary  formality  ;  they 
give  you  the  best,  and  make  you  at  home  at  once.  80 
nice  to  be  introduced  straightway,  and  be  on  terms  VA'i(h 
all  the  fellows  !  I  find,  by  one  of  the  newspapers,  that 
I  am  keeping  a  scrap-book,  —  they  have  seen  Houson's 
handiwork,  I  imagine.  I  was  just  thinking  that  if  one 
indulged  in  that  sort  of  thing,  what  a  collection  of  club 
cards  and  menus  one  would  have  !  There  is  not  a  city 
we  have  visited  where  we  have  not  been  made  free 
of  all  the  clubs,  from  Boston  to  Chicago.  The  Bos- 
ton clubs  are  very  fine,  English-like  in  many  respects. 
But  there  is  nothing,  I  suppose,  more  gorgeous  than 
the  Union  League,  at  New  York.  I'll  tell  you  what 
strikes  me  most  about  America,  —  the  immensity  of 
the  work  it  has  done  in  regard  to  the  material  welfare 
of  its  people  ;  in  building  up  a  new  civilization  ;  provid- 
injr  for  the  comforts  of  the  thousands  who  crowd  into 
its  ports  from  the  Old  World  ;  taking  care  of  them  and 
governing  them,  giving  them  a  share  of  their  wealth, 
and  welding  the  incongruous  mass  into  one  great  peo- 
ple. I  don't  wonder  that  young  men  who  have  only 
their  honest  hands  and  hopes  as  legacies  from  parents 
come  here  to  make  homes  and  names,  to  found  families, 
and  lay  up  for  their  old  age.  It  is  a  wonderful  coun- 
try ;  the  thought  of  it  almost  inspires  me  with  elo- 
quence, and  I  think  on  many  a  night  it  has  given  me  a 
new  energy,  and  a  new  love  for  my  own  work.  I  no- 
tice, by  the  papers,  that  some  English  visitor  has  been 
writing  in  one  of  the  English  periodicals  what  is  called 
'  a  slashing  criticism '  upon  American  habits  and  cus- 
toms, and  making  unfair  comparisons  between  the  life 


THE  PRAIRIE   CITY. 


341 


objects  of  the  men  and  women  of  this  great  New  World 
and  the  older  civilizations  of  Europe.  This  sort  of 
criticism  can  only  be  mere  surface  work ;  it  does  not 
consider  and  weigh  results  ;  it  does  not  count  how  great 
a  thing  has  been  done  in  a  short  time  ;  it  docs  not  see 
how  marvellously  successful  this  people  has  been  in 
making  a  law  unto  itself,  a  civilization  unto  itself,  and 
how  it  has  not  yet  had  time  to  rest  and  tack  on  to  its 
great,  sweeping  garments  the  fringes  and  ribbons  and 
jewels  that  belong  to  an  age  of  rest,  and  luxury, 
and  art.  They  are  but  small  critics,  and  they  are  not 
respectfully  conscious  of  the  possibilities  of  the  close 
union  of  England  and  America,  who  discuss  America 
in  a  petty  way,  and  do  not  give  her  the  credit  she 
deserves  for  all  she  has  done  in  the  cause  of  freedom 
and  of  humanity." 

He  paced  the  room  as  he  talked,  and  I  applauded  his 
peroration. 

"And  you  say  you  cannot  'orate,'  to  use  a  local 
phrase,  except  about  acting." 

"  It  is  an  easy  thing  to  make  a  speech  in  one's  own 
room,  but  a  different  thing  standing  up  before  an  audi- 
ence, ch?  " 

"  Anyhow,"  1  said,  "  we  will  make  a  point  about 
that  hap-hazard  criticism  of  irresponsible  persons,  who 
do  not  consider  either  the  truth,  or  the  feelings  of  a  na- 
tion, so  long  as  they  can  put  together  a  few  smart  things 
for  their  own  glorification.  Nobody  ever  heard  of  the 
writer  you  mention  until  he  abused  America ;  and  some 
men  mistake  notoriety  for  fame." 


342 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


IV. 

TiiE  pieces  nroduced  during  the  two  weeks  of  Irving's 
stay  in  Chicago  were  "  Louis  XI.,'*  "  The  Merchant  of 
Venice,"  "The  Bells,"  "The  Belle's  Stratagem,"  and 
"The  Lyons  Mail."  On  the  last  night,  being  called 
before  the  curtain  by  one  of  the  most  crowded  houses 
of  the  season,  he  addressed  the  audience  as  follows  :  — 

"Ladies  and  Gentlemen, — It  is  my  privilege  to 
thank  you  for  the  hearty  and  enthusiastic  welcome 
which  you  have  given  us  during  our  too  short  stay 
amongst  you.  Many  years  ago,  when  a  boy  in  Eng- 
land, I  remember  a  song,  — 

*«  '  To  the  West !  to  the  West  I 
To  the  land  of  the  free  I ' 

I  little  dreamed  in  those  days  I  should  ever  see 
your  fair  city  —  the  Queen  of  the  West.  For  the 
welcome  you  have  given  my  colleagues  and  myself  I 
thank  you,  — especially  I  thank  you  on  behalf  of  Miss 
Ellen  Terry,  whose  indebtedness  to  you  is  equal  to  my 
own.  I  was  good-humorcdly  told  the  other  day  that  I 
was  too  pleased  with  America,  especially  with  Chicago  ; 
and  if  I  were  to  find  some  faults  it  might  be  a  relief, 
and  would  vary  the  monotony  a  little.      (Laughter.) 

"  Well,  I  hope  I  am  not  naturally  a  fault-finder ; 
but,  if  I  were,  you  have  afforded  me  no  opening ;  for 
you  have  loaded  us  with  gratitude,  and  extended  to  us  a 
welcome  as  broad  as  the  prairie  upon  which  you  stand. 
I  cannot  leave  you   without   thanking   the   press  of 


fc;  ; 


THE  PRAIRIE  CITY. 


343 


Chicago  for  its  sympathy,  its  eloquent  and  its  ungrudg- 
ing recognition  of  at  least  a  sincere,  although  incom- 
plete, effort  to  bring  the  dramatic  art  abreast  of  the 
other  arts,  and  not  leave  the  art  of  the  stage  behind  and 
out  in  the  cold  in  the  general  march  of  progress. 

"  I  am  very  glad  to  tell  you  that  we  shall  soon  meet 
again ;  for  we  shall  have  the  honor  of  appearing  before 
you  on  the  11th  of  next  month,  when  we  shall  have 
the  gratification  of  spending  another  week  amongst 
you.  And  now  I  beg  to  thank  you  again  and  again, 
and  I  can  but  hope  that  we  may  live  in  your  memories 
as  you  will  live  in  ours."     (Applause.) 


The  receipts  for  the  first  week  in  Chicago  were 
$17,048,  and  for  the  second,  $19,117  ;  making  a  total 
of  $36,166.  From  a  mere  box-office  point  of  view  the 
success  of  his  visit  is  unprecedented  ;  the  increase  of  the 
receipts  at  the  close  of  the  engagement  dissipating  the 
last  "  weak  invention  of  the  enemy,"  that  Irving  only 
excites  curiosity.  If  this  shallow  nonsense  merited  the 
smallest  attention  the  figures  already  quoted  would  be 
a  sufficient  answer.  A  truer  test  of  the  genuineness 
of  Irving's  popularity,  and  the  hold  his  work  has 
obtained  upon  the  intelligent  and  intellectual  public 
of  America,  will  be  the  character  of  his  reception 
when,  in  the  course  of  the  present  tour,  he  begins  to 
pay  return  visits  to  Chicago,  Boston,  Philadelphia,  and 
New  York  ;  for  he  goes  back  to  these  cities  when  their 
enthusiasm  may  be  said  to  have  cooled,  and  in  the 
Lenten  season,  which  is  largely  observed  in  the  chief 
cities  of  the  United  States. 


344 


IMPItESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


ST. 


XVIT. 

LOUTS,    CINCINNATI,    INDIANAPOLIS, 
COLUMBUS. 


Sunshino  and  Snow  —  Wintry  Landscapes  —  Fire  and  Frost — Pictu- 
resque St.  Louis  —  "  The  Elks  "  —  A  Notable  JReception  —  "  Dime 
Shows"  —  Under-studies  —  Germany  in  America  —  "On  the  Ohio" 
—  Printings  under  Difficulties  —  "  Baggage-smashing  "  —  Handsome 
Negroes  and  Sunday  Papers  —  The  Wonders  of  Chicago. 


I. 

There  was  a  little  crowd  of  friends  at  the  railway 
station,  to  see  us  take  our  leave  of  Chicago,  at  noon  on 
Sunday,  January  20,  1884.  The  weather  was  cold, 
but  there  was  a  bright,  sunny  sky.  Everybody  was 
in  good  spirits.  The  "  Edwin  Forrest  "  car,  in  which 
we  travelled,  had  now  quite  a  familiar  appearance. 
George,  a  colored  a'ttendant  who  had  charge  of  it,  was 
there,  with  a  merry  grin  upon  his  broad,  intelligent 
features.  "A  right  good  fellow,  George,"  said  Irving. 
"Yes,  that's  so,"  was  George's  response,  as  he  relieved 
him  of  his  coat  and  stick,  and  led  the  way  to  the  pretty 
little  suite  of  rooms  on  wheels  allotted  to  Irving  and 
his  friends.  The  other  cars  were  also  admirably  ap- 
pointed. "  This  is  something  like  a  day  for  travelling," 
said  one  member  of  the  company  to  another.  The  sun 
blazed  down  upon  them  as  they  walked  about,  await- 
ing the  signal  for  departure,  but  there  appeared  to  be 
very  little  warmth  in  it.     The  sunbeams  were  bright, 


ST.   LOUIS,   CINCINNATI,  ETC. 


345 


but  they  seemed  to  have  contracted  a  chill  as  they  fell. 
Every  now  and  then  a  gust  of  icy  wind  would  come 
along,  as  if  to  put  truth  into  this  conclusion.  Terriss 
and  Tyars,  braving  the  weather  without  overcoats,  as 
Englishmen  delight  to  do,  soon  discovered  that,  after 
all,  the  winter  was  still  with  us.  As  the  cry  "  All 
aboard,"  followed  by  tho  clanging  of  the  engine-bell, 
set  the  train  in  motion,  we  entered  once  more  upon 
severely  wintry  scenes  of  ice  and  snow. 

Within  a  very  short  time  we  found  ourselves  in  the 
midst  of  snow-drifts,  out  of  which  preceding  trains 
had  had  to  cut  their  way.  Gangs  of  men  were  clear- 
ing the  track,  flinging  up  the  snow  on  both  sides  of  the 
road  in  solid  shovelfuls.  The  white  cUbris  was  piled 
up  six  and  eight  feet  high,  where  the  snow  had  settled 
down  in  great  drifts  upon  the  line.  "One  train  was 
stuck  here  five  hours  yesterday,"  said  the  guard.  "  It 
is  the  heaviest  snow  in  my  experience." 

Moving  onwards  once  more,  we  travelled  through  a 
world  of  snow :  through  prairie-lands,  where  the  wind 
came  tearing  after  us,  waited  upon  by  scudding  clouds 
of  snow,  that  rose  like  spray,  to  fall  in  its  wake  as  if 
the  prairie  were  a  snow-sea ;  past  forests  of  oak,  with 
the  brown  leaves  clinjjinjj  to  the  touffh  branches,  that 
moved  with  a  sturdy  kind  of  protest  against  the  boister- 
ous wind ;  across  great  rivers,  that  were  closed  to 
navigation.  Now  and  then  skating-parties  flitted  by  us 
in  sheltered  bends  of  the  great  silent  water-ways,  and 
at  intervals  the  sun  would  burst  out  upon  the  white 
world  and  fill  it  with  icy  diamonds.  <. 

We  met  a  train  with  five  engines.     It  came  plunging 


346 


IMPEESSIONS   OF  AMERICA. 


I 


along,  —  a  veritable  procession  of  locomotives.  The 
foremost  of  them  were  mighty  ploughs,  to  charge  the 
growing  snow-drifts  we  had  left  behind  us.  By  and 
by  the  sun  went  down,  and  when  our  lamps  were 
lighted,  and  it  was  night,  as  wc  thought,  wc  looked 
out  to  see  one  of  the  magnificent  sunsets  which  had 
been  puzzling  for  many  weeks  the  wise  men  of  both 
worlds,  —  a  wide  red  glare  in  the  sky,  stretching  away 
as  far  as  the  eye  could  see,  with  a  white  foreground, 
the  line  of  the  horizon  dotted  with  the  dark  con- 
figuration of  farm  buildings  and   forest  trees. 

At  three  o'clock  in  tlie  morning  we  arrived  at 
St.  Louis,  and  on  the  next  day  I  walked  across 
the  ice-locked  ]Missis8ippi.  In  a  street  adjacent  to 
the  wharves,  where  steamers  and  boats  of  all  kinds 
were  frozen  up,  were  the  remains  of  an  old  hotel,  that 
had  been  burnt  out  a  eliort  time  previously.  The 
thermometer  stood  at  twenty  degrees  below  zero.  A 
first  glance  at  the  place,  from  a  short  distance,  showed  a 
house  with  what  looked  like  packs  of  wool  thrust  out  at 
the  windows,  and  great  bundles  and  entanglements  of 
wool  hanging  down  to  the  ground  from  eaves  and  win- 
dow-sills. On  examination  these  strange  appearances 
turned  out  to  be  excrescences  of  ice,  —  part  of  the 
water  that  had  been  poured  upon  the  flames  by  the 
fire-brigades,  whose  engines  had  literally  been  frozen 
up  in  the  street.  Inside  the  devastated  buildings  the 
ruins  were  hung  with  icicles  many  feet  in  length,  with 
others  rising  to  meet  them,  mimicking  the  stalactites 
and  stalagmites  of  the  Cheddar  caverns,  in  England, 
not  to  mention  the  more  famous  caves  of  Kentucky. 


8T.  LOUIS,   CINCINNATI,  ETC. 


347 


A  picturesque  city,  St.  Louis,  smoky  and  not  over- 
clean,  but  seated  grandly  upon  the  broad  river  which 
local  enterprise  has  spanned  with  a  roadway  that  is 
worthy  of  the  engineering  skill  of  the  people  whose 
locomotives  climb  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  whose 
bridges  are  the  admiration  of  the  world.  One  of  the 
picturesque  memories  of  the  tour,  that  will  reappear  at 
odd  times  in  "the  magic  lantern  of  the  mental  vision," 
will  be  the  procession  of  carts  and  wagons  drawn  by 
teams  of  mules,  driven  by  colored  drivers,  that  is  con- 
tinually passing  over  the  bridge,  across  the  Mississippi, 
at  St.  Louis.  The  English  government  have  obtained 
a  great  many  mules  from  this  part  of  the  United  States. 
There  coidd  be  no  finer  breed  of  this  useful  animal  than 
the  examples  one  saw  at  St.  Louis.  The  drivers,  almost 
to  a  man,  appeared  to  be  wearing  old  army  cloaks. 
The  greyish-blue  of  the  cloth  and  the  red  linings,  toned 
down  to  rare  "  symphonies "  of  worn  color,  were  in 
perfect  harmony  with  the  atmospheric  and  material  sur- 
roundings. Smoke  hanging  like  a  pall  over  the  city ; 
a  wintry  mist  creeping  along  the  icy  river;  the 
approaches  to  the  bridge  lost  in  the  local  haze  of  smoke 
and  snowy  clouds  ;  the  great  mercantile  procession  of 
mules,  and  carelessly  laden  wagons,  bursting  with 
cotton,  corn,  and  hides,  made  a  fine  busy  foreground 
to  a  very  novel  scene. 

St.  Louis  accepted  the  plays,  the  acting,  the  scenery, 
and  the  stage  management  of  the  Lyceum  with  much 
of  the  earnest  admiration  that  had  characterized  the 
Chicago  audiences.  The  "Republican,"  the  "Globe- 
Democrat,"  the  "Post-Dispatch,"  and  the  "Chronicle" 


348 


IMPRESSIONS   OF  AMERICA. 


had  lengthy  and  appreciative  notices  of  "The  Lyons 
Mail,"  "The  Bells,"  and  "The  Merchant  of  Venice." 
The  spirit  of  the  criticism  is  crystallized  in  the  follow- 
ing remarks,  which  appeared  as  an  editorial  in  the 
"  Post-Dispatch  "  of  Jan.  22  :  — 

To  the  delighted  audience  which  hung  with  rapt  attention 
last  night  on  each  word  and  look,  each  tone  and  motion,  of 
Henry  Irving,  there  was  only  one  element  of  disappointment. 
This  was  that  they  had  not  been  prepared  at  all  for  any  such 
magnificent  revelation  of  dramatic  genius.  ...  As  far  as 
the  people  of  St.  Louis  are  concerned  we  have  only  to  say 
that  those  who  miss  seeing  him  will  sustain  a  loss  that  can 
never  be  made  good. 

n. 

Among  the  social  events  of  the  visit  to  St.  Louis 
was  a  reception  given  in  the  lodge  and  club  rooms  of 
the  "Elks."^     The  event  was  rcc^arded  as  of  so  much 

iThe  institution  of  "  The  Elks  "  is  one  of  great  influence  and  impor- 
tance. Its  objects  are  to  promote  and  advance  the  material  and  social 
interests  of  the  theatrical  profession,  and  to  give  mutual  aid  and  assistance 
to  the  members  in  case  of  pecuniary  need.  Candidates  for  admission  to 
the  order  must  be  **  proposed  and  vouched  for  "  by  existing  members ;  and 
before  election  they  must  pass  through  the  ordeal  of  the  ballot  "  after  an 
investigation  as  to  character  by  a  committee  of  the  lodge."  Membership 
is  a  title  to  relief  in  distress  wherever  there  is  a  lodge ;  but  a  "  Black 
Book  "  is  kept  and  cii'culatcd  containing  the  names  of  members  who  have 
proved  unworthy  of  their  privileges.  Members  need  not  necessarily  be 
actors.  Many  lawyers  and  journalists  are  Elks.  The  charity  of  the 
order  is  secretly  dispensed  by  an  executive  committee,  sworn  not  to  divulge 
the  channels  into  which  it  flows,  or  the  names  of  those  Avho  request  assist- 
ance. Annual  performances  in  aid  of  the  "  charity  fund  "  are  given  at  the 
theati-es.  One  of  these  "  benefits  "  occurred  during  Mr.  Irving's  first  visit 
to  New  York.  Ii-ving,  finding  it  impossible  to  accept  an  invitation  to  be 
present,  either  as  a  performer  or  a  spectator,  sent  a  donation ;  and  this  was 
acknowledged   by  a   formal   resolution   of  thanks,    which,    beautifully 


ill 


ST.  LOUIS,   CINCINNATI,  ETC. 


349 


interest  and  importance,  and  the  Elks  is  so  excellent  an 
institution,  and  the  affair  so  different  to  anything  asso- 
ciated with  the  tlieatrc  in  England,  that  it  merits  special 
attention.  The  local  reporter  will  not,  I  am  sure,  feel  an- 
noyed if  I  call  in  his  aid  to  make  the  record  complete  :  — 
The  lodge  and  cliil)  rooms,  the  hall-ways  and  the 
corridors,  were  decorated  for  the  occasion.  The  lodjifc- 
room,  where  the  formal  introductions  took  place, 
was  festooned  with  flags  and  evergreens.  The  yel- 
low light  of  the  chandeliers  was  in  striking  contrast 
with  the  white  rays  of  two  Edison  lamps,  that  were 
artistically  hung  at  each  end  of  the  hall.  Two  hand- 
some crayon  portraits  of  Irving  and  ISIiss  Terry 
were  displayed  above  the  platform  at  the  east  end  of 
the  room.  Directly  above  them  was  the  coat-of-arms 
of  England,  draped  with  the  English  flag  and  the  Union 
Jack,  while  below  and  immediately  over  the  lounge 


illuminated  and  framed,  was  presented  to  Ii-vin^  at  the  Brevoort  House  by 
a  deputation  of  the  members,  headed  by  A.  C.  Morland,  Exalted  llulcr 
and  Seci-etaiy  of  the  lodj^e;  A.  L.  llccklcr,  T.  Steint'eld,  Georj,'e  Clarke, 
J.  W.  Hamilton,  and  James  W.  Collier,  chairman  of  the  Committee  of 
An'angements.  New  York  City  is  the  head-quarters  of  the  Elks.  The 
Nevr  York  lodge  is  No.  1  on  the  list  of  lodges,  each  of  them,  as  in 
Masomy,  being  numbered ;  though  practically,  I  understand,  the  lodges  in 
the  other  States  are  considered  to  be  branches  in  association  with  No.  1. 
Their  club-houses  in  many  States  and  cities  are  handsome  and  well-ap- 
pointed buildings.  Among  the  anecdotes  which  Mr.  Morland  related  to 
Irving  was  the  story  of  an  "  advance  theatrical  agent "  dying  suddenly  in 
a  strange  place,  and  his  body  being  laid  away  in  the  local  morgue.  Some 
persons  happening  to  hear  that  the  only  sign  of  identification  found  on  the 
body  was  a  bronze  badge,  with  "  P.B.O.E."  and  an  elk's  head  upon  it,  the 
fact  came  to  the  knowledge  of  a  brother  Elk,  who  at  once  discovered  the 
number  of  the  man's  lodge,  the  officers  of  which  identified  him  by  name ; 
and,  instead  of  lying  in  a  nameless  grave,  the  poor  fellow  was  conveyed  to 
his  home,  in  a  far-distant  State,  and  given  "  Christian  burial "  in  the 
presence  of  his  family  and  friends. 


350 


IMPRESSIONS   OF  AMERICA. 


I 


was  a  bank  of  white  immortelles,  framed  in  flowers 
and  evergreens,  and  bearing  in  the  centre  the  words, 
"  Our  Guests,"  worked  in  purple  flowers.  The 
platforms  at  either  end  of  the  hall  were  decorated 
with  rare  plants  and  exotics,  interspersed  with  ever- 
greens. 

In  one  corner  of  the  main  room  supper  was  spread 
upon  a  table,  the  decorations  of  which  were  very  dainty 
flowers  interspersed  with  culinary  trophies.  About  half- 
past  nine  o'clock  the  guests  began  to  arrive  and  disperse 
themselves  here  and  there  about  the  rooms.  An  orches- 
tra, under  the  direction  of  Professor  Maddern,  furnished 
the  music  for  promenading ;  and  an  agreeable  little 
concert  of  instrumental  and  vocal  music  led  up  to  the 
entrance  of  the  guests  of  the  evening.  "  About  eleven," 
says  the  local  chronicler,  "  they  arrived,  and  were 
escorted  to  the  lodge-room,  where  all  the  other  guests 
had  assembled  to  receive  them.  Mr.  Irving  entered, 
escorting  Mrs.  John  W.  Norton,  while  Miss  Terry  was 
escorted  by  Mr.  John  A.  Dillon.  As  they  strolled 
h  ^"e  and  there  about  the  hall  they  were  introduced  to 
those  present.  Mr.  Irving's  countenance,  when  in 
repose,  was  rather  inclined  to  be  sombre  and  solemn, 
but  immediately  assumed  a  pleasant  expression  when 
he  was  introduced  to  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  who 
had  assembled  to  do  him  honor."  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Howe,  Mr.  Wfnman,  and  severpl  other  members  of 
Irving's  company,  were  present,  and  as  one  strolled 
through  the  rooms  tliere  was  something  very  homelike 
in  these  familiar  faces  intermingled  with  the  crowd. 
Says  the  local  chronicler :  — 


: 


ST.   LOUIS,   CINCINNATI,  ETC. 


351 


Miss  Terry  was  the  soul  of  life  and  animation.  When 
she  was  not  chatting  gayly  with  some  lady  or  gentleman,  who 
had  just  been  presented,  she  walked  about  with  her  escort,  and 
commented  in  a  bright  and  interesting  way  on  the  decorations, 
pictures,  etc.,  that  adorned  the  walls.  She  was  becomingly 
dressed  in  white  silk,  trimmed  with  Spanish  lace,  flowing 
brocade  train  of  white  and  crushed  strawberry.  Her  only 
jewelry  were  gold  bracelets  and  a  pearl  necklace.  On  her 
bosom  she  wore  a  bunch  of  natural  flowers. 

After  a  half  an  hour  or  so  spent  in  conversation  and 
promenading  the  guests  repaired  to  the  club-room  and  partook 
of  supper.  Here  the  greatest  sociability  prevailed.  Mr. 
Irving  walked  here  and  there,  and  conversed  pleasantly  and 
informally  with  all  the  people  he  met;  while  Miss  Terry, 
seated  in  a  large  chair,  was  surrounded  by  a  gay  *hrong  of 
young  folk,  and  appeared  the  youngest  and  gayest  of  them 
all.  A  number  of  beautiful  roses  were  taken  from  the  table 
and  presented  to  her  by  ardent  admirers,  for  all  of  whom  she 
had  a  pleasant  word,  and  some  little  coquettish  reply  for  their 
gallantry.  About  twelve  o'clock  they  left  the  rooms,  and  the 
guests  slowly  dispersed. 

Upwards  of  five  hundred  hosts  and  guests  were  present. 
Among  those  present'  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wm.  IT.  Thom- 
son, Mr.  and  Mrs.  Albert  Todd,  ;Mr.  and  Mrs.  Gus.  Ewing, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  C.  M.  Whitney,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.  W.  Norton, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jos.  F.  Foy,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  A.  S.  Aloe,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Wm.  Walsh,  Judge  McKeighan  and  wife,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Geo.  II.  Small,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  A.  I).  Cooper,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  E. 
B.  Leigh,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  II.  Clay  Pierce,  Miss  Alice  B.  Hart, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  R.  B.  Dakin,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  T.  W.  Wood,  Mrs. 


^  The  Irving-Teny  reception,  by  the  Elks,  Wednesday  evening,  was  a 
notable  social  event.  Tiie  Elks  were  there,  of  course ;  but  it  is  vorth  of 
notice  that,  at  this  testimonial  offered  to  two  eminent  members  of  the 
dramatic  profession,  the  attendance  o  ladies  represented  the  most  exclu- 
sive and  aristocratic  circles  of  St.  Louis  society ;  and  quite  a  nimibcr  of  the 
most  liberal  and  eminent  of  the  clergymen  were  there  also.  "  Society  " 
in  St.  Louis  has  more  good  common-sense  than  in  any  other  city  in  the 
Union. — Fost-Disj)atch,  Jan.  20. 


352 


IMPEESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


R.  E.  Collins,  Mrs.  C.  II.  Tyler,  Mrs.  Bradford  Allen,  Judge 
W.  C.  Jones  and  wife,  Mrs.  and  Mrs.  A.  A.  Mermod,  Mrs. 
Garlick,  of  Galveston,  Rev.  John  Snyder,  Rev.  Father  Betts, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Home,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  E.  R.  Norris,  Rev,  Dr. 
Sonneschein,  JNIr.  and  Mrs.  G.  Lamar  Collins,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  H. 
Clay  Sexton,  Miss  Georgiana  MacKenzie,  Miss  Florence  Bevis, 
Miss  Lizzie  Bautz,  Miss  Julia  Dean,  ]\Iiss  Kimball,  Miss  Bogy, 
Miss  Lizzie  Reed,  Miss  Adele  Picot,  Miss  Waples,  of  Alton, 
Miss  Francis,  Miss  Roland,  of  Danville,  Ky.,  Miss  Fallen, 
Miss  Olive  Harding,  Miss  Agnes  Farrar,  Miss  Wagstaft",  of 
Kansas  City,  Miss  lone  Aglar,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Blachly,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  D.  B.  Taylor,  Miss  Bissell,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  F.  W.  Coulter, 
Miss  Fairchild,  Mrs.  Cramer,  Miss  Ettie  Isaacs,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
J.  N.  Norris,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Joseph  Schnaider,  Mrs.  and  Mrs. 
J.  W.  Paramore,  and  Messrs.  John  A.  Dillon,  John  M.  Har- 
ney, Charles  R.  Pope,  Dr.  P.  S.  O'Reilly,  D.  R.  Francis  Fred 
Schmiding,  John  K.  Overall,  P.  Short,  B.  H.  Engelke,  R. 
Maddern,  A.  F.  Shaplelgh,  Jr.,  A.  C.  Bernays,  J.  J.  Kerns, 
R.  W.  Humes,  II.  A.  Diamant,  W.  C.  Steigers,  John  G.  Chand- 
ler, R.  D.  Delano,  C.  M.  Xapton,  W.  C.  Jones,  L.  A.  Clark, 

C.  D.  Colraan,  L.  D.  Picot,  H.  L.  Ilaydel,  I.  R.  Adams,  F.  A. 
Beusberg,  C.  R.  Chambers,  W.  C.  Coppleston,  John  P.  Ellis, 
E.  P.  Andrews,  Louis  H.  Jones,  James  II.  Falser,  Geo.  R. 
Kirgin,  Gideon  Bantz,  John  McIIenry,  Chas.  E.  Ware,  N.  M. 
Ludlow,  A.  G.  Thompson,  Col.  John  M.  Bacon,  J.  L.  Isaacs, 
T.  J.  Bartholow,  Philip  Brockman,  R.  Harbison,  A.  L.  Berry, 
David  Davison,  F.  W.  Humphrey,  Chas.  F.  Joy,  E.  V.  Walsh, 
G.  W.  lilachly,  John  J.  Meeker,  Atwood  Vane,  David  Prince, 
A.  C.  Stocking,  H.  D.  Wilson,  C.  P.  Mason,  Henry  Ames,  H. 
J.  McKellops,  J.  N.  Norris,  M.  J.  Steinberg,  C.  II.  Buck,  Jr., 

D.  ^.  Dakin,  Gaston  Meslier,  E.  W.  Lansing,  Estill  McHenry, 
Dr.  T.  E.  Holland,  R.  W.  Goisan,  W.  II.  Horner,  R.  J.  Delano, 
Ernest  Albert,  John  J.  Pierson,  E.  B.  Leigh,  D.  II.  Steigers, 
John  A.  Scholten,  Mr.  Sands  and  ladies,  A.  C.  Bernays  find 
lady,  C.  D.  Johnson,  Louis  McCall,  Arthur  H.  Merrill,  R.  W. 
Shapleigh,  D.  R.  Francis,  Charles  Wezler,  James  Hopkins,  F. 
L.  Ridgely,  J.  B.  Greensfelder,  Meyer  Goldsmith,  Henry  W. 
Moore. 


ST.   LOUIS,   CINCINNATI,  ETC. 


353 


A  newspaper  correspondent  telegraphed  to  a  Chicago 
journal  the  startling  information  that  Irving  was 
dissatisfied  with  this  entertainment,  and  left  early. 
This  was  probably  the  reporter's  sly  way  of  compli- 
menting Chicago.  The  rivalry  between  these  two 
cities  is  often  humorously  illustrated  in  the  press.  St. 
Louis  is  the  elder  and  most  historical  city  of  the  two  : 
but  Chicago  is  the  most  prosperous,  and  has,  no 
doubt,  the  greatest  future.  St.  Louis,  nevertheless, 
claims  to  have  a  population  of  nearly  500,000 ;  it 
boasts  double  the  park  area  of  New  York,  and  stands 
"  second  only  to  Philadelphia  in  point  of  territory 
devoted  to  public  recreation." 


II. 

Two  weeks  were  spent  between  St.  Louis,  Cincinnati, 
Indianapolis,  and  Columbus.  The  New  York  reper- 
toire was  played  with  excellent  results  in  every  way. 

"Indianapolis  and  Columbus,"  said  Irving,  "are 
evidently  behind  St.  Louis  and  Cincinnati  in  their 
appreciation  of  the  arts  ;  though  I  have  no  reason  to 
complain,  nor  has  Miss  Terry.  They  came  to  the 
theatre  in  large  numbers,  were  most  excellent 
audiences,  cordial  in  their  reception  of  us,  and  flat- 
tering in  their  applause ;  Lut  in  walking  through 
their  streets  one  could  not  help  seeing  that  there  was 
a  good  deal  too  much  of  the  '  Dime-Museum '  busi- 
ness in  these  places  for  art  generally  to  flourish  liber- 
ally at  present.  '  The  Fat  Lady, '  '  The  Two-headed 
Pig,'  '  The  Tattooed  Man,'  and  '  The  Wild  Men  of  the 


354 


IMPIiESSlONS  OF  AMERICA. 


\l  ^i  I 


Woods,* appear  to  have  a  great  hold  on  Indianapolis  and 
Columbus.  Indeed,  they  make  a  fight  for  it  against  the 
theatres,  even  in  St.  Louis  and  Cincinnati.  You  remem- 
ber the  great  wide  street,  in  Birmingham,  called  the  Bull 
ring?  Well,  the  show-streets  of  these  cities  remind  me 
of  a  concentrated  Bull  ring  in  Birmingham,  where  '  Liv- 
ing Wonders,'  'The  Wizard  of  the  North,'  and  'The 
Fortune-Telling  Pony,'  are  always,  more  or  less,  chal- 
lenging public  attention.  I  believe  Ball,  the  leader  of 
our  orchestra,  had  some  special  trouble  at  Indianapolis. 
The  violoncello,  for  example,  had  only  two  strings. 
Ball,  on  the  second  night,  chaffingly  said,  '  I  suppose 
you  will  consider  two  strings  sufficient  for  to-night  ? '  — 
'  No,'  was  the  reply  ;  '  I  stick  to  three,  on  principle.'  " 

*'  Did  you  hear  about  the  manager  who  gave  the  extra 
musicians  in  his  orchestra  something  less  than  usual," 
I  asked,  "  because,  as  he  said,  they  would  see  you  for 
nothing,  and  that  should  be  considered  when  every  seat 
was  taken  ?  At  night  they  complained  ;  they  said, '  You 
have  swindled  us  ;  we  have  not  seen  Irving  act  at  all ; 
we  have  only  seen  hhn  at  rehearsal.  We  have  been 
playing  under  the  stage,  at  the  back  of  it,  behind 
Hats,  or  smothered  up  at  the  wings,  where  we  could  see 
nothing,  and  you  have  got  to  give  us  our  full  pay.'" 

It  is  quite  new  in  American  theatres  for  the  orchestra 
to  be  put  into  sucli  frequent  requisition  behind  the 
scenes,  as  is  the  case  in  Irving's  representations.  The 
special  engagement^  of  a  tenor  (Mr.  J.  Robertson)  to 
sing  the  ballad  in  "  Much  Ado  "  is  an  unheard-of  extrava- 
gance. Mr.  Robertson  also  gave  very  valuable  assistance 
in  the  quartettes  and  choruses  introduced  with  fine  eiFect 


ST.  LOUIS,  CINCINNATI,  ETC. 


355 


in  "The  Merchant,"  "The  Bells,"  and  other  plays; 
which  reminds  me  that  among  the  saddening  incidents 
of  the  tour  were  the  sudden  recall  to  England  of  Mr. 
Johnson,  the  low  comedian,  to  the  sick-bed  of  his  wife  ; 
and  the  withdrawal  of  Mr.  Norman  Forbes  from  the 
cast  of  "The  INIerchant,"  through  illness.  We  left 
Forbes  at  one  of  the  cities,  with  a  serious  attack  of 
rheumatic  fiiver.  The  "  undcr-studies "  had  to  be 
employed,  necessitating  many  new  rehearsals.  Mr. 
Howe,  at  a  moment's  notice,  undertook  the  part  of 
Dogberry,  and  played  it  admirably ;  while  Mr.  Carter 
took  the  part  of  Richard  in  "Louis  XI.,"  and  Mr. 
Harbury  gave  extra  and  efficient  service  in  the  grave - 
vard  scene  in  "  Hamlet."  Mr.  Andrews  was  cast  for 
the  part  of  Lancelot  in  "The  Merchant,"  replacing 
Mr.  Johnson,  and  ]\Ir.  Lyndal  played  Claudio  in 
"  Much  Ado  "  in  such  a  way  as  to  entitle  him  to  the 
compliments  of  Irving,  which  were  generously  and 
ungrudgingly  given. 

"Cincinnati,"  said  Irving,  "has  great  aims  in  the 
direction  of  art.  It  has  a  grand  public  hall,  endowed 
by  a  local  philanthropist,  in  which  it  gives  musical, 
operatic,  and  dramatic  festivals.  This  year  the  opera  oc- 
cupies its  enormous  stage.  The  Festival  Committee  gave 
me  a  dinner  at  the  Queen  City  Club.  It  was  a  most 
interesting  reunion.^     The  city  is  very  picturesque,  I 


iThe  Dramatic  Festival  Association  tendercrl  a  dinner  to  Mr.  Henry 
Irving,  at  the  Queen  City  Club- rooms,  last  evening,  after  the  great  actor'a 
final  performance  at  the  Grand  Opera  House.  There  wei-e  present,  besides 
the  distinguished  guest.  Governor  Noycs,  ex-president  of  the  association : 
Manager  Henry  E.  Abbey ;  Colonel  Miles,  city  dramatic  director ;  Secre- 
tary Hall,  Mr.  Halstead,  Judge  Force,  Colonel  Dayton,  Mr.  Alter,  Mi* 


Pi 


356 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMEBIC  A. 


should  say,  if  one  could  only  have  seen  it ;  but  it  was 
choked  with  snow,  and  in  a  continual  mist  or  fog.  The 
ice  in  the  river  broke  up  before  we  left,  —  a  wonderful 
sight  it  was  :  a  great  rising  flood,  filled  with  ice  and  snow, 

—  along  the  wharves  silent  ships,  and  steamers, — 
surprising  to  look  down  upon  from  the  hills.  As  the 
city  has  grown  the  people  have  had  to  build  on  the 
heights,  and  the  street-cars  are  hauled  up  on  elevators 

—  you  drive  your  carriage  upon  these  platforms  and 
are  raised  to  the  roads  above,  —  it  is  something  like 
going  up  in  a  balloon.     A  mist  hung  over  the  river. 


ill  I' 


Huntington,  Mr.  J.  W.  Miller,  Mr.  Nat.  II.  Davis,  Mr.  Devcreux,Mr.  Chat- 
iield,  Mr.  Bram  Stoker,  manager  for  Mr.  Irving;  Mr.  Wethcrby,  Mr. 
Stevens,  Copleston,  agent  of  Mr.  Abbey  ;  Mr.  Charles  Taft,  ^Ir,  Leonard, 
Colonel  Markbreit,  Mr.  Will.  Carlisle,  Mr.  Frank  Alter,  and  others,  to  the 
number  of  thirty  or  more.  The  tables  were  elegantly  decorated,  and  the 
menu  was,  of  course,  of  the  choicest  and  most  fastidious  description.  Gov- 
ernor Noyes  introduced  Mr.  Irving  to  those  present  in  his  usual  happy 
manner,  alluded  to  the  great  pleasure  and  benefit  the  "  Paris  of  America  " 
had  enjoyed  from  his  brief  sojourn  among  us,  and  significantly  expressed 
the  hope  that  he  might  soon  return  to  us.  Mr.  Irving  responded  to  the 
enthusiastic  greeting  which  followed  Governor  Noyes's  introduction  in  a 
manner  which  won  all  hearts,  hy  its  sensible  and  modest  sincerity.  He 
had  been  most  favorably  impressed  by  his  audiences  in  Cincinnati,  finding 
them  keenly  responsive  and  deeply  attentive.  Allusion  had  been  made  to 
the  operatic  and  other  festivals;  but  he  was  not  yet  persuaded  that  the 
emulation  excited  between  the  artists  taking  part  in  them  might  not  have  a 
flavor  of  the  cockpit  about  it.  He  Avas  much  more  inclined  to  believe  in 
the  benefit  of  sound,  permanent  dramatic  enterprise  here,  a  school  of  the 
drama,  with  a  theatre  and  stock  com})any  attached,  whence  might  origi- 
nate influences  of  deep  and  permanent  good  to  the  community  and  country. 
He  paid  a  high  compliment  to  the  quickness  and  ready  grasp  of  an  idea  by 
Americans,  and  concluded  with  a  graceful  acknowledgment  of  the  general 
and  paiticular  courtesies  he  had  met  with  in  Cincinnati,  not  forgetting  the 
press,  llemarks  were  also  made  by  Judge  Force  and  Mr.  Ilalstead,  the 
latter  alluding,  with  much  feeling,  to  some  of  Cincinnati's  peculiar  claims 
to  the  title  of  •'  Paris  of  America."  —  Cincinnati  J^ews- Journal,  Feb.  3, 
1884. 


I!  m. 
i  m 


Sr.   LOUIS,   CINCINNATI,  ETC. 


357 


in<r 


liri- 


ims 

o 


tlie  water  was  rising  rapidly,  and  people  were  express- 
ing fears  that  the  place  would  be  flooded,  as  it  had  been 
a  year  or  two  previously.^  There  is  a  German  quarter. 
It  is  called  '  Germany,'  and  has  all  tlic  characteristics 

^  Irving  saw  the  beginning  of  one  of  the  periodical  disasters  to  which 
Cincinnati  is  subjected,  —  the  overflowing  of  the  Ohio.  "Within  a  few  days 
after  his  visit  the  city  Avas  inundated,  thousands  of  people  were  homeless, 
entire  families  flying  from  their  homes,  their  liouses  wrecked,  their  property 
floating  down  the  river.  Many  lives  were  lost  up  and  down  stream.  Great 
floods  occurred  in  other  districts,  the  busy  manufacturing  city  of  Pittsburg 
being  among  the  most  serious  sufferers.  Cincinnati  had  hardly  recovered 
from  the  floods,  and  thought  out  new  devices  for  dealing  with  any  future 
trouble  of  the  kind,  when  she  was  visited  with  another  disaster,  —  a  great 
and  fatal  riot.  All  countries  have  their  public  abuses,  their  governmental 
shortcomings.  England  has  plenty  of  them ;  the  administration  of  the 
law  in  America  is  far  from  perfect.  As  long  as  judges  are  elected  by 
popular  vote  so  long  will  there  be  serious  miscarriages  of  justice;  so  long 
as  juries  can  be  packed,  intimidated,  and  bribed,  so  long  will  the  jury  sys- 
tem be  found  defective.  Such  glaring  instances  of  malfeasance  and  failure 
in  the  administration  of  justice  had,  from  time  to  time,  occuired  at  Cin- 
cinnati that  (upon  the  principle  that  it  is  the  last  straw  that  breaks  the 
camel's  back),  Avhcn  "  another  notorious  murderer  was  let  off,"  the  popu- 
lace arose,  attacked  the  jail  where  a  company  of  other  rufij."  .  '•e  im- 
prisoned, with  a  view  to  taking  the  law  into  their  own  hands.  militia 
were  called  out,  and  fired  into  the  rioters.  Many  persons  wer>  ed  and 
wounded  before  order  could  bo  restored.  The  press  of  the  coui.i'y,  while 
regretting  the  breach  of  the  peace  and  the  loss  of  life,  generally  insist 
upon  the  moral  that  governments  must  not  look  for  people  to  respect  the 
law  in  face  of  corruption  in  high  places  and  notorious  compromises  with 
thieves  and  murderers.  "The  objective  poin*.  of  the  mob,"  wrote  the 
special  correspondent  of  the  "  Xcw  York  Sun,"  "was  the  jail,  and  the 
murderers  it  contained,  whom  they  meant  to  hang.  Twenty-three  mur- 
derers are  in  that  jail,  none  of  whom  have  had  a  trial,  except  William 
Hugh,  who  is  to  be  hanged;  and  Emil  Trompeter,  who  has  had  two  trials, 
and  is  to  have  a  third.  In  the  list  are  William  llartnett,  who  murdered 
his  wife  with  an  axe ;  Jt;e  Palmer,  the  negro  confederate  of  William  Ber- 
ncr  in  murdering  William  Kirk,  and  Allen  Ingalls  and  Ben  Johnson,  the 
Avondale  negro  burkers.  In  addition  to  these  there  are  several  murderers 
out  on  bail  and  walking  the  streets.  They  have  not  been  tried,  though  the 
murders  for  which  they  were  indicted  were  conunitted  luonths  ago."  The 
"  New  York  Herald,"  editorially  discussing  "  the  results  of  the  riot,"  says 
that,  iu  the  first  place,  "  no  jury  in  that  city  for  some  tiuie  to  come  will 


358 


IMPliESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


of  the  Fatherland  in  its  beer-gardens,  concert-rooms, 
theatres,  and  general  mode  of  life.  Next  to  the  native 
Americans  the  Germans  are  the  most  influential  people. 
They  have  several  newspapers  printed  in  their  own 
language,  and  in  the  regular  German  type.^     The  sud- 


j_ 


\  ¥ 


outrage  justice  and  public  decency  by  making  a  mockery  of  murder 
trials,"  and  that,  "  in  the  next  place,  the  people  of  Cincinnati  have  be- 
come deeply  impressed  with  the  importance  of  divorcing  partisan  politics 
from  the  administration  of  justice  and  municipal  affairs  generally.  Before 
the  echoes  of  the  riot  have  died  away  they  have  started  a  citizens'  move- 
ment, with  the  determination  to  put  in  the  field  and  elect  at  the  coming 
municipal  election  candidates  not  identified  with  either  party  machine,  but 
representative  of  the  highest  order  of  citizenship.  When  this  is  done  there 
will  be  a  more  effective  adrainistratiian  of  law  and  justice  and  a  reform  ot 
abuses  which  contributed,  directly  or  indirectly,  in  no  small  degree,  to  the 
disastrous  events  of  the  past  few  days." 

I  "  Louis  XL,"  "  Charles  the  First,"  "  The  Merchant  of  Venice,"  ♦'  The 
Bells,"  and  "  The  Lyous  Mail,"  drew  great  and  fashionable  houses  at  Cin- 
cinnati, and  the  criticisms  in  the  native  press  and  in  the  German  news- 
papers were  written  in  a  spirit  of  cordiality,  much  of  it  descriptive,  and  ail 
of  it  recognizing  the  possibilities  of  a  speedy  reformation  in  the  existing 
method  of  representing  the  classic  drama  in  the  West.  The  following 
translation  of  some  of  the  most  prominent  passages  in  a  lengthy  criticism 
of  "  The  Merchant  of  Venice  "  is  from  "  Tagliches  Cincinnati  Volksblatt," 
one  of  the  principal  German  newspapers  of  the  district :  — 

"  The  court-scene  is  a  masterpiece,  and  is  filled  with  so  many  details 
that  the  spectator  follows  the  action  with  lively  interest,  and  imagines 
himself  in  a  real  court  of  law.  The  decoration  of  the  last  act,  a 
wonderful  park  scene,  with  moonlight,  was  ravishing,  and  the  madi'igals 
behind  the  scene  were  charmingly  melodious,  and  were  also  excellently 
sung;  in  a  word,  one  saw  a  great  performance  of  'The  Merchant  of 
Venice,'  and  not  only  Mr.  Irving,  as  Shylock,  or  Miss  Teriy,  as  Portia. 
By  that  we  do  not  mean  to  say  that  Henry  Irving's  performance  was  less 
great ;  on  the  contrary,  he  confirmed  and  fortified,  through  his  Shylock, 
the  judgment  we  pronounced  upon  his  *  Louis  XL'  His  reading  is  entirely 
the  same  as  DOring's,  who  ranked  as  the  best  Shylock  in  Germany,  and 
who  has  not  yet  found  a  successor.  It  is  the  covetous,  vindictive  Jew ; 
but  he  is  rather  an  object  of  pity  than  of  scorn.  It  was  the  Jew  whose 
passionate  temperament  and  inexorable  vengeance  naturally  seized  upon 
the  first  opportunity  of  gratifying  his  hatred  towards  the  Christians,  who 
heaped  mockeries,  insults,  and  injust."  a  upon  him,  particularly  A.utonio^ 


ST.   LOUIS,    CINCINNATI,   ETC. 


359 


den  rises  of  the  Ohio  appear  to  be  tlic  chief  drawback. 
They  are  very  philosophical  about  it,  and  try  to  con- 
sole themselves  on  the  ground  that,  if  they  suffer  from 
water,  they  have  not  been  burned  out,  as  some  other 
cities  have.  Cincinnati  has  a  noble  ambition  :  it  aims 
at  becoming  a  great  centre  of  culture,  more  particu- 
larly in  art  and  science.  It  is  making  a  magnificent 
start  in  its  Schools  of  Design,  its  art  leagues,  its  Univer- 
sity, and  the  Museum  which  is  being  built  in  Eden 
Park.  I  was  struck  with  an  incident  related  to  me  by 
a  friend  of  yours.  One  of  the  newspaper  offices  was 
burned  down.  The  fire  took  place  while  the  paper  was 
at  press.  Seeing  that  it  was  impossible  to  save  the 
machinery  they  put  on  the  highest  speed  and  worked 
off  the  sheets  until  the  place  was  too  hot  to  hold  them  ; 
and  the  men  stepped  out  with  the  printed  sheets 
almost  as  the  ceiling  fell  in  upon  the  machinery.  By 
the  aid  of  a  neighbor,  and  the  presses  of  a  rival  who 
had  failed,  they  came  out  the  next  day  with  a  full  re- 
port of  the  calamity,  in  which,  I  believe,  some  lives 


who  treated  him  with  the  utmost  scorn.  This  was  the  Jew  Shakespeare 
drew,  played  by  Mr.  Irving  with  the  refinement  of  an  artist  and  the  sharp 
observance  of  a  philologist.  .  .  .  His  facial  expression  is  mobile  and 
most  expressive  .  .  .  and  his  speech  has  only  just  the  accent  by  which 
the  Jews  of  that  class  are  known.  His  acting  in  the  first  scene,  in  the 
scene  with  Tubal,  and,  above  all,  in  the  couil-scene  (particularly  the  pass- 
ing from  cruel,  passionate  joy  to  the  consciousness  of  his  own  torpid 
despair) ,  was  the  true  work  of  a  great  actor.  .  .  .  Miss  Ellen  Terry, 
who  plays  Portia,  was  reported  from  other  towns  where  she  had  appeared 
to  be  a  great  actrosa :  the  audience  was,  therefore,  highly  expectant. 
.  .  .  She  t  jok  the  public  from  first  to  last  by  storm.  .  .  .  She  is 
one  of  those  endowed  actresses,  who  shine  so  completely  in  the  char- 
acter they  represent  that  thi?  spectator  forgets  the  actress,  and  only  sees 
the  person  represented  in  tl?  j^)iecc." 


It' 

t  iii 


3G0 


IMPIiESSIONS   OF  AMERICA. 


were  lost.     An  example  of  American  enterprise  that, 
eh? 

"At  Columbus  I  went  to  the  State  House, ^  while 
the  General  Assembly  and  Senate  were  sitting.  If  one 
were  a  politician,  I  can  imagine  nothing  more  interest- 
ing than  to  study  the  details  of  the  American  system  of 
government,  the  question  of  State  rights,  and  other  feat- 
ures of  the  n-cncral  administration.  Each  State  seems 
very  distinct  and  independent  of  the  other.  For  in- 
stance, some  States  and  cities  have  special  laws  of  their 
own,  and  many  complications  which  seem  inexplicable 
would  be  more  easily  explained  if  this  were  more 
understood.  It  is  not  the  government  of  the  United 
States  which  can  control  all  matters ;  it  is  the  State 
which  sometimes  p,lays  the  principal  part.  I  did 
not  quite  understand  that  until  recently.  For  in- 
stance, in  New  York  city  or  State  there  is  a  law 
giving  certain  jirivileges  to  ticket-speculators ;  while 
at  Philadelphia,  and  at  Boston,  I  believe,  there  is 
a  law  against  speculators  selling  tickets  on  the  side- 
walks. Talking  upon  this  subject  to  a  lawyer  in  Balti- 
more, he  told  me  that  bajjijaije-smashine:  on  the  rail- 
roads  had  reached  such  a  pitch  that  a  State  law  had 
been  passed  in  Maryland    making  it  a   misdemeanor. 


1  Mr.  Ileniy  TiTing',  in  remembrance  of  distinguished  courtesies  shown  him 
while  in  the  East  by  the  lion.  Thomas  Donaldson,  called  upon  his  father, 
Major  Donaldson,  to-day.  Durinjj  the  afternoon,  in  company  with  Mr. 
Donaldson,  Mr.  Ii-viug  called  upon  various  gentlemen,  and  was  introduced 
to  a  great  many  members  of  the  General  Assembly  in  the  House  and  Sen- 
ate, lie  received  many  warm  expressions  touching  the  pleasure  he  gave 
our  citizens  in  "  The  Bells,"  at  Comstock's  Opera  House.  During  their 
stay  in  the  State  House  Mr.  Irving  was  introduced  to  Governor  Iloadly 
and  the  State  officers.  —  Columbus  Dispatch,  Feb.  5. 


ST.  LOUIS,   CINCINNATI,   ETC. 


3G1 


jr. 


English,  and  indeed  European,  travellers  generally,  who 
have  had  no  experience  of  America,  can  have  no  con- 
ception of  the  way  in  which  baggage  is  treated  ;  it  seems 
to  me  as  if  the  intention  often  is  really  to  stave  in 
trunks  and  boxes.  The  credulous  Britisher,  who  should 
put  on  his  trunk,  'This  side  up,  with  care,'  would 
have  a  fit  if  he  saw  the  porter  throw  it  down  with  a 
crash  on  the  other  side,  and  then  pile  a  ton  or  two 
of  the  heaviest  kind  of  merchandise  upon  it.  When 
you  think  of  the  respect  with  which  a  traveller's  trunks 
are  treated  on  European  railways,  it  is  startling  to  en- 
counter a  general  sort  of  conspiracy  here  to  break  them 
up,  and  in  a  country  which  has  invented  the  best  system 
of 'expressing'  and  delivering  baggage  known  to  modern 
travel, —  to  me  this  is  incomprehensible. 

"From  Columbus  we  went  back  to  Chicago,  the  first 
of  our  return  visits.  I  felt  quite  at  home  again  at  the 
Grand  Pacific  Hotel, — one  of  the  finest  and  most  com- 
fortable houses  of  the  entire  tour.  The  colored  attend- 
ant, Walter,  who  is  told  off  for  my  service,  is  the  most 
intelligent  and  courteous  fellow  I  have  ever  met  in  the 
position  he  holds.  Singularly  handsome,  too,  is  ho 
not  ?  Indeed  one  is  struck  with  the  physical  beauty  of 
some  of  these  half-breeds,  mulattoes,  Creoles — won- 
derful fellows  !  I  remember  that  Sala  describes  the 
Grand  Pacific  as  '  Wonder  Number  One '  among  the 
marvels  of  Chicago,  and  the  newspaper  press  as 
'Wonder  Number  Two.'  I  should  put  the  press  first, 
—  did  you  ever  see  such  papers  as  the  Sunday  journals  ? 
Sixteen  to  twenty  and  twenty-four  pages,  —  why,  it's 
marvellous  how  they  get  the  matter  for  them  together  I 


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362 


IMPBE8SI0N8  OF  AMERICA. 


One  of  the  St.  Louis  papers  I  noticed  was  also  a  very 
large  one.  What  a  deftness  of  allusion  and  adaptation 
of  events  to  personal  criticism  there  is  in  these  western 
journals  !  The  Standard  oil  affair,  — I  don't  know  the 
merits  of  it ;  but  charges  of  unfairness  in  connection 
with  the  enterprise  are  before  the  public.  Somebody 
has  sent  me  this  paragraph  about  it,  from  the  'Co- 
lumbus Times ' :  — 

•*  The  members  of  the  General  Assembly  who  looked  upon 
the  Standard  oil,  when  it  flowed  with  unction  in  the  recent 
senatorial  struggle,  might  get  a  few  points  on  the  effects  of  the 
remorse  of  conscience  by  seeing  Henry  Irving  in  *  The  Bells.* 

« Flattering,  eh?'' 


I,.,  ;; 


A  HOLIDAY  AT  NIAQABA, 


363 


XVDI. 

CHIEFLY    CONCERNING   A    HOLIDAY    AT 

NIAGARA. 

■■ .    ■      ,  „ ,  ^f_,, 

The  Beturn  Visit  to  Chicago  — Welcomed  Back  again  —  Farewell  Speech — 
Niagara  in  the  Winter — A  Sensation  at  the  Hotel  —  Requisitioning  ad- 
jacent Towns  for  Chickens  and  Tnrkeys  —  Ira  Aldridge  and  a  Colored 
Dramatic  Club  —  A  Blizzard  from  the  North-west  —  The  Scene  of 
Webb's  Death  —  "A  great  Stage-manager,  Nature  " — Life  and  Death 
of  "  The  Hermit  of  Niagara  "  —  A  Fatal  Picnic  —  The  Lyceum  Com- 
pany at  Dinner —  Mr.  Howe  proposes  a  Toast  —  TerrLss  meets  with  an 
Accident  that  recalls  a  Bomautic  Tragedy. 


I. 

"  The  fact  of  Mr.  Irving  and  Miss  Terry  and  their 
company  attracting  an  audience  to  fill  Haverly's 
Theatre  on  so  speedy  a  return  after  leaving  us,  and 
that,  too,  following  a  rugged  strain  of  grand  opera," 
said  the  "Chicago  Inter-Ocean,"  of  February  12, 
"may  be  accepted  as  conclusive  evidence  of  genuine 
appreciation  and  admiration  of  their  worth.  This 
testimony  is  much  strengthened  by  the  fact  that  the 
plays  presented  were  those  most  frequently  seen  during 
the  original  engagements, — *The  Bells,'  and  *The 
Belle's  Stratagem,'  —  for,  though  it  is  thought  Mr. 
Irving  is  seen  to  exceptional  advantage  as  Mathias, 
mere  curiosity  would  have  held  off  to  see  him  in  a  new 
character.  It  was  a  generous  and  highly  gratifying 
welcome  back ;  and  it  is  certainly  a  great  pleasure,  as 
well  as  an  artistic  privilege  worthy  to  be  acknowledged, 


364 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


that  we  have  Mr.  Irving  and  his  superb  surroundings 
again  before  us.  We  arc  in  no  danger  of  seeing  too 
much  of  this  sort  of  work.** 

'* Hamlet"  and  "Much  Ado"  were  produced  for 
the  first  time  at  Chicago  durinjj  this  second  season. 
Both  excited  genuine  interest,  and  were  received  with 
as  much  favor  by  audiences  and  critics  as  his  previous 
work.  Only  two  weeks  had  intervened  between  his 
first  and  second  visit.  More  money  was  paid  at  the 
doors  of  Haverly's  during  the  week  than  had  gone 
into  the  treasury  for  a  week  of  grand  opera.  The 
programme  for  the  last  night  was  "  Much  Ado,"  and 
the  recitation  of  Hood's  "Eugene  Aram."  After  en- 
thusiastic calls  for  Irving  and  Miss  Terry,  at  the  close 
of  the  comedy,  there  were  cries  of  "Speech  I  Speech  !" 
Irving,  in  evening  dress  for  the  recitation,  presently 
responded  to  the  wishes  of  his  audience.  He  said  he 
would  be  made  of  sterner  stuff — and  he  was  glad 
that  such  was  not  the  case  —  if  he  failed  to  feel  pro- 
foundly the  welcome  that  had  been  accorded  him  in 
Chicago.  Not  one  shadow  had  fallen  across  the 
brightness  of  that  welcome ;  there  was  not  a  jarring 
note  in  the  generous  applause  that  had  greeted  the 
company's  efforts.  The  encouragement  had  been 
most  grateful,  and  it  had  urged  himself  and  his  asso- 
ciates to  do  their  best  work.  He  thanked  the  press 
of  the  city  for  overlooking  shortcomings,  and  for  rec- 
ognizing so  generously  what  they  found  to  be  good. 
The  notices  had  been  most  eloquent  and  sympathetic. 
He  wished  to  thank  the  audience  on  behalf  of  his 
associates,  and  particularly  on  behalf  of  Miss   Ellen 


A  HOLIDAY  AT  NIAGARA. 


365 


Terry,  whose  great  girts  had  been  so  quickly  recog- 
nized. If  he  might  be  permitted  to  say  so  in  pubUc, 
he  himself  heartily  joined  in  their  appreciation  of  Miss 
Terry's  work.  Parting  was  "a  sweet  sorrow,"  and  the 
sweet  part  of  his  leave-taking  was  in  expressing  his 
deep  sense  of  Chicago's  great  welcome.  Again  he 
would  say  good-by  to  every  one ;  but  he  hoped  circum- 
stances would  make  it  possible  to  meet  a  Chicago 
audience  in  the  future,  and  he  trusted  that  "  you  will 
remember  us  as  we  will  surely  remember  you." 

"The  speaker,"  says  the  "  Tribune,"  "was  frequently 
interrupted  by  applause,  his  reference  to  Miss  Terry 
especially  awakening  enthusiasm.  He  then  recited 
'Eugene  Aram's  Dream'  with  fine  effect,  and  after 
inducing  him  to  respond  to  a  fifth  and  last  recall  the 
audience  dispersed." 


n. 

On  the  following  Monday  and  Tuesday  the  company 
appeared  for  two  nights  at  Detroit,^  the  chief  city  of 
Michigan,  to  large  and  most  friendly  audiences.  I 
was  in  New  York  at  this  time,  and  had  arranged  to 

1  Detroit  is  a  handsome  and  populous  city  on  the  hanks  of  a  noble  river 
that  connects  Lake  Eric  and  St.  Clair.  The  company  gave  two  perform- 
ances at  Whitney's  Opera  House,  to  large  audiences,  by  whom  they  were 
licui-tily  received.  The  "Post  and  Tribune"  contained  long  and  cora- 
plimcntaiy  notices  of  the  plays  and  the  actoi*s,  with  lists  of  the  principal 
people  in  the  audiences.  "  The  coming  of  Mr.  Irving  and  Miss  Terry,"  it 
says,  "was  a  great  event  in  dramatic  circles  here,  and  has  long  been 
looked  forward  to  with  expectancy.  The  audience  that  greeted  them  com- 
pletely filled  the  house,  eveiy  seat  being  occupied,  while  many  were  content 
to  stand  during  the  entire  performance.  It  was  also  a  fashionable  audience, 
in  the  fullest  sense  of  the  word,  all  of  Detroit's  most  prouounced  society 
people  being  there." 


366 


IMPRESSIONS   OF  AMERICA. 


1 1 


'L 


A 


li' 


meet  Irving,  Miss  Terry,  and  a  few  friends,  at  Niagara, 
on  Wednesday.  "If  Abbey  is  agreeable,  I  shall  give 
the  company  a  holiday,  so  that  they  can  go  to  Niagara,^ 
spend  the  day,  and  sleep  in  Toronto  at  night.  It  will 
do  us  all  good."  Abbey  was  agreeable,  and  "Wednes- 
day, February  20,  was  one  of  the  most  memorable 
days  of  the  tour. 

I  travelled  from  New  York  by  the  West  Shore  road, 
an  admirably  equipped  railway  (and  having  at  Syra- 
cuse the  most  picturesque  and  one  of  the  finest  stations 
in  America),  to  meet  my  friends  at  the  Falls.  At 
two  o'clock,  on  Tuesday,  I  arrived  on  the  Canadian  side 
of  the  river.  The  country  was  covered  with  snow, 
but  a  thaw  had  set  in  during  the  morning.  Driv- 
ing from  the  railway  station  the  scene  was  wild,  weird, 
and  impressive.  The  steep  banks  of  the  Niagara  river 
were  seamed  and  furrowed  with  ice  and  snow.  The 
American  side  of  the  ravine  was  ploughed  by  the 
weather  into  ridges.  One  might  say  the  river  banks 
were  corrugated,  cracked,  grooved  into  strange  lines, 

iThe  "  Niagara  Falls  Courier  "  has  an  interesting  article  on  the  many 
orthographical  changes  of  the  name  of  Niagara.  In  1687  it  was  written 
Oniogoragn.  In  1686  Gov.  Dongan  appeared  uncertain  about  it  and  spelled 
it  Onniagero,  Onyagara,  and  Onyagro.  The  French,  in  1638  to  1709,  wi'ote 
it  Niaguro,  Onyagare,  Onyagra  and  Oneygra.  Philip  Livingston  wrote  in 
1720  to  1730  Octjagara,  Jagera,  and  Yagei*ah,  and  Schuyler  and  Livingston, 
Commissioners  of  Indian  Affaira,  wrote  it  in  1720  Onjagerae,  Ocniagara,  etc. 
In  1721  it  was  written  Onjagora,  Oniagara,  and  accidentally,  probably, 
Niagai*a,  as  at  present.  Lieut.  Lindf5ay  wrote  it  Niagara  in  1751.  So  did 
Capt.  De  Lanccy  (son  of  Gov.  De  Lancey) ,  who  was  an  officer  in  the 
English  army  that  captured  Fort  Niagara  from  the  French  in  1759. 
"  These  pioneers,"  says  the  local  journalist,  "  may,  however,  be  excused  in 
view  of  the  fact  —  as  will  be  attested  by  post-masters — that  some  letter- 
writers  of  to-day  seem  quite  as  undecided  about  the  orthography  of  this 
world-wide  familiar  name." 


A  HOLIDAY  AT  NIAGARA. 


367 


every  channel  ribbed  with  ice.  Here  and  there  tiny 
falls,  that  had  mimicked  the  colossal  ones  beyond, 
were  frozen  into  columns.  Others  had  been  con- 
verted into  pillars  that  seemed  to  be  supporting 
white,  ghost-like  figures.  Further  on  there  was  a 
cluster  of  fountains  gushing  out  of  the  rocks  beneath  a 
number  of  mills,  the  wheels  of  which  they  had  turned 
on  their  way  to  the  river.  These  waters  leaped  down 
some  fifty  or  sixty  feet  into  great  ice-bowls.  You 
would  think  they  had  found  an  outlet  other  than  the 
river  but  for  its  discoloration  at  the  base  of  the 
great  natural  urns,  or  bowls,  into  w'lich  they  fell. 
There  were  ponderous  heaps  of  ice  at  the  bed  of  the 
American  falls.  A  section  of  them  was  literally 
frozen  into  a  curious  mass  of  icicles.  The  ice  was  not 
bright,  but  had  a  dull,  woolly  appearance.  Comi'^g 
upon  the  two  great  falls  at  a  slight  bend  of  the  river 
you  see  them  both  at  once.  On  this  day  they  were 
almost  enveloped  in  spray.  Our  horses  splashed 
through  thawing  snow,  and  picked  their  way  over  a 
road  broken  up  with  ecoriated  ice  and  flooded  with  water. 
A  strong,  but  not  a  cold,  wind  blew  in  our  faces, 
and  covered  us  with  spray.  The  water  was  pouring 
down  the  abyss  in  greater  masses  it  seemed  to  mo 
than  usual ;  and  this  was  my  third  visit  to  Niagara.  I 
had  seen  the  falls  in  summer  and  autumn.  Their  winter 
aspect  had  not  the  fascinating  charm  of  the  softer  periods 
of  the  year,  when  the  banks  are  green,  and  the  leaves 
are  rustling:  on  the  trees  of  the  islands.  The  Clifton 
House  was  closed.  The  balconies,  upon  which  n^erry 
parties   are  sitting  and  chatting  in  summer  evenings, 


368 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


\ii 


were  empty.  Even  the  Prospect  House  looked  chilly. 
The  flood  fell  into  its  awful  gulf  with  a  dull,  thudding 
boom,  and  the  rapids  above  were  white  and  angry. 

I  wondered  what  Irving  would  think  of  the  scene. 
Some  people  profess  that  they  are  disappointed  with 
the  first  sight  of  Niagara.  There  are  also  people  who 
look  upon  the  ocean  without  surprise ;  and  some  who 
see  the  curtain  go  up  on  a  great  play,  or  a  grand 
opera,  for  the  first  time  in  their  lives,  without  experi- 
encing one  throb  of  the  sensation  which  Bulwer,  in 
one  of  his  novels,  describes  with  pathetic  eloquence. 
The  Rev.  Dr.  Thomas,  a  popular  preacher  in  the 
Prairie  city,  went  to  his  first  play  while  Irving  wai 
at  Chicago,  and  was  greatly  impressed ;  although  he 
half  confessed  that,  on  the  whole,  he  liked  a  good 
lecture  quite  as  well.  A  colored  man  and  his  wife,  at 
Philadelphia,  told  me  they  had  always  considered  the 
play  wicked,  and  would  never  have  thought  to  go  to 
a  theatre  had  not  one  of  their  clergymen  done  so. 
"But,"  said  the  husband,  "I  see  noffin'  wicked  nor 
wrong,  and  it  did  my  heart  good  to  see  all  dem  white 
folk  bowing  to  de  colored  gentleman  and  making  much 
of  him."  It  was  the  casket  scene  in  "The  Merchant" 
that  had  most  delighted  these  people.  •  , 

Almost  the  first  thing  I  did  on  arriving  at  Niagara 
was  to  send  Irving  a  telegram,  asking  if  he  had  settled 
where  to  stay,  advising  him  that  for  a  brief  visit  the 
Prospect  House  was  most  conveniently  placed  for  see- 
ing the  falls.  My  response  was  a  request  for  rooms. 
This  was  followed  by  an  inquiry  if  the  house  could 
provide  a  dinner  for  seventy ;  and  from  that  moment  I 


1 


■s 

:iit 


A  HOLIDAY  AT  NIAGARA. 


369 


found  myself  actively  engaged,  not  in  reviving  my 
former  recollections  of  Niagara,  but  in  preparing  to 
receive  the  Irving  Company.  The  landlord  of  the 
Prospect  House  is  a  land-owner  in  Manitoba.  He 
was  looking  after  his  interests  in  those  distant  regions. 
The  landlady,  a  bright,  clover  woman  of  business, 
however,  undertook  to  "run  the  dinner." 

"  The  house  is  partially  closed,  as  you  know,"  she 
said,  "  and  it  is  small.  We  have  only  a  few  servants 
during  the  winter,  and  it  is  difficult  to  get  provisions 
at  short  notice.  But  we  have  the  Western  Union  tele- 
graph in  the  house,  and  a  telephone.  We  will  do  our 
best." 

The  intelligent  colored  waiter  found  it  impossible  to 
seat  seventy  persons  in  the  dining-room. 

"  They  must  dine  at  twice,"  he  said ;  "  that's  the 
only  chance  ;  no  help  for  it." 

It  was  night  before  the  order  for  dinner  was  really 
closed  and  settled,  many  telegrams  passing  between 
Detroit  and  Niagara  ;  and,  as  I  found  to  my  consterna- 
tion, between  Niagara  and  many  adjacent  towns. 

"  Not  a  turkey  nor  a  chicken  to  be  got  for  love  or 
money,"  said  the  landlady.  "  I  have  telegraphed  and 
telephoned  the  whole  neighborhood, — just  going  to  try 
Buffalo,  as  a  last  resort.  You  see  the  hotels  here  are 
closed,  and  it  is  very  quiet  in  the  winter." 

"As  good  a  dinner  as  can  be  provided," was  one  of 
Stoker's  latest  telegrams,  "and  it  must  be  ready  at  half- 
past  three  to  the  minute." 

The  excitement  at  the  Prospect  House  was  tremen- 
dous.    The  falls  were  quite  discounted.     They  were  of 


370 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


I 


1 1 


no  moment  for  the  time  being,  compared  with  the  ques- 
tion of  turkeys  and  the  seating  of  the  coming  guests. 

"  You  have  beef,  mutton,  ham,  you  say?" 

"Yes,  and  we  can  make  some  excellent  soup, — a 
nice  lot  offish  has  come  in  from  Toronto,  lake  fish,  — 
but  turkeys,  no;  chickens,  no;  though  I  have  tele- 
graphed everywhere  and  offered  any  price  for  them. 
Ah,  if  we  had  only  known  two  days  ago ! "  said  the 
landlady. 

"  Never  mind,  let  it  be  a  plain  English  dinner,  horse- 
radish sauce  with  the  beef,  — can  you  manage  that?" 

"  Yes  !     Oh,  yes  I  " 

"  And  boiled  legs  of  mutton,  eh?" 

"Yes,  with  caper-sauce." 

"  Capital.     And  what  do  you  say  to  plum-pudding  ?  " 

"  I  fear  there  will  not  be  time  to  stone  the  raisins  ; 
but  I'll  telephone  into  the  town  at  once  and  see." 

While  she  was  gone  I  surveyed  the  dining-room 
once  more.  "  If  you  moved  the  stove,  and  placed 
forms  against  the  walls,  instead  of  chairs,  how  would 
that  be  ?  "  I  asked. 

It  was  a  great  problem,  this.  My  colored  ally  and 
his  two  assistants  set  to  measuring  with  a  foot-rule. 
They  had  their  woolly  heads  together  when  I  looked  in 
upon  them  an  hour  later. 

"  Yes,  I  believe  it  can  be  done,"  said  the  chief  waiter ; 
and  before  midnight  the  tables  were  arranged,  the  stove 
cleared  out,  and  the  room  almost  ready  for  the  feasters. 
As  he  was  leaving  for  the  night  he  said,  "  The  people 
of  my  race  honor  Mr.  Irving.  He  knew  our  great 
actor,  Ira   Aldridge.     There  was  a  letter  from   Mr. 


1 


A  HOLIDAY  AT  NIAOABA. 


871 


Irving  about  him,  and  a  Dramatic  Club  started  by  our 
folk  in  the  New  York  papers.  Rely  on  me,  sir,  to 
have  this  dinner  a  success."^ 


»  The  following  is  the  correspondence  alluded  to :  — 

"New  York,  Jan.  20,  1884. 
"Mk.  InviNO:  — 

"  Dear  tSir,  —  The  creation  and  development  of  a  taste  for  true  dra- 
matic art  amon<T  the  colored  citizens  of  culture  in  New  York  city,  haring 
been  long  regarded  as  a  necessity  to  their  intellectual  gi-owth,  a  number 
of  ladies  andgentlemc.:,  oclected  for  their  evidences  of  dramatic  ability, 
which  they  have  shown  from  time  to  time,  met  on  the  evening  of  January  7, 
and  perfected  the  organization  of  the  '  Irving  Dramatic  Club.'  In  appris- 
ing you  of  this  fact  we  beg  leave  to  assure  you,  sir,  that,  in  selecting  your 
name  for  the  title  of  our  club,  we  did  not  choose  it  because  we  felt  we  were 
conferring  an  honor,  —  far  from  it, —  for  we  well  know  that  tlie  mere  naming 
of  an  amateur  club  could  add  nothing  to  the  lustre  of  the  laurels  so  de- 
servedly won  by  one  who  so  fittingly  represents  as  yourself  all  that  is 
noble  and  grand  in  dmmatic  art.  But,  having  in  our  mind  the  record  of 
past  events,  we  could  not  fail  to  recognize  that  the  English  stage  and  its 
representatives  were  but  the  synonyms  of  equity  and  justice. 

"  Thus,  in  searching  for  a  patron,  we  naturally  reverted  to  that  source 
from  which  our  eftbrts  were  mostly  to  be  regarded  with  favor;  and,  acting 
upon  this  impulse,  we  could  think  of  no  name  that  would  be  a  greater 
incentive  to  conscientious  and  praiseworthy  eflfort  than  that  of  Ii-ving. 

"  Hoping  that  this  action  will  meet  with  your  approval,  we  remain,  with 
best  wishes  for  your  health  and  prosperity,  respectfully  yours, 

"IRVING  DRAMATIC  CLUB. 

"  Charles  G.  Bowser,  Prea'i. 
"  W.  H.  A.  MOOKK,  Sec'y." 

"  St.  Louis,  Jan.  26,  1884. 
"  Dear  Sir,  —  I  have  received  your  letter  of  the  20th,  and  it  gives  me 
great  pleasure  to  have  my  name  associated  with  so  gratifying  an  intel- 
lectual movement  among  the  colored  citizens  of  New  York  as  the  estab- 
lishment of  a  Dramatic  Club.  Art  is  of  no  countiy,  and  has  no  nationality. 
Europe  is  deeply  indebted  to  the  artistic  culture  of  the  great  cok  '  people 
of  the  Eastern  World,  and  there  is  promise  of  a  future  for  your  race,  in 
the  fact  that  you  have  ceased  to  feel  the  disabilities  of  color  in  your  associ- 
ation with  your  white  fellow-citizeus.  I  once  had  the  pleasure  of  knowing 
a  very  famous  actor  of  your  race, —  Ira  Aldridge.  I  wish  for  your  club  a 
prosperous  career,  and  beg  to  subscribe  myself, 

"  Yours  truly,  HENRY  IRVING." 


372 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA, 


m. 

Wednesday  morning  was  ushered  in  with  a  blizzard 
from  the  north-west.  The  roads  that  had  been  slushy 
the  day  before  were  hard  as  adamant.  There  was  ice  in 
the  wind.  The  air  was  keen  as  a  knife.  A  traveller  who 
had  come  in  from  Manitoba  said  that  during  the  nijjht 
it  was  "as  much  as  your  life  was  worth  to  pass  from  one 
car  to  another."  Towards  noon  the  weather  moderated. 
The  sun  came  out,  the  wind  changed,  the  spray  from 
the  falls  fell  into  the  river.  A  rainbow  stretched  its 
luminous  arch  over  the  American  falls. 

"I  have  often  thought,"  I  said  to  Irving," during  this 
tour,  how  surprised  any  English  traveller  who  knew 
London  well  would  be,  if  he  encountered  the  Lyceum 
Company  by  accident  at  some  wayside  American  depot, 
not  knowing  of  this  visit  to  the  States." 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "do  you  remember  the  people  at 
Amsterdam,  in  Holland,  who  followed  us  in  amaze- 
ment to  the  hotel  I'nere,  one  of  them,  a  German,  making 
a  bet  about  us,  the  others  ridiculing  the  idea  that  I 
could  be  out  of  London,  when  he  had  seen  me  acting 
there  a  few  days  before  ?  " 

We  were  on  our  way  to  the  falls,  driving  in  a  close 
carriage,  Irving,  Miss  Terry,  and  myself,  and  I  think 
we  talked  on  general  topics  a  little,  while  they  were 
trying  to  take  in  the  approaches  to  the  great  scene  of 
all. 

"Toole  and  his  dear  boy,  Frank,  lost  their  way,  one 
uight,  about  here,"  said  Irving.     "  I  remember  his  tell- 


A  HOLIDAY  AT  NIAGARA. 


373 


ing  me  of  it —  couldn't  get  n  carriage  —  were  belated, 
I  remember.  There  was  no  fence  to  the  river  then,  I 
expect,  —  a  dangerous  place  to  lose  your  way  in.  How 
weird  it  looks  !  " 

"  Oh,  there  are  the  falls ! "  Miss  Terry  exclaimed, 
looking  through  the  glass  window  in  front  of  us. 
"  Surely  I  Yes,  indeed  !  There  they  are  I  How  won- 
derful I " 

I  had  told  the  driver  to  pull  up  at  the  bend  of  the 
river,  where  we  should  get  the  first  riew  of  them. 
Irving  turned  to  look. 

"Drive  on,"  I  said,  and  in  a  few  minutes  we  pulled 
up  in  full  view  of  both  falls. 

"  Very  marvellous  I  "  said  Irving.  "  Do  you  see 
those  gulls  sailing  through  the  spray  ?  How  regularly 
the  water  comes  over  I  It  hardly  looks  like  water,  — 
there  seems  to  be  no  variety  in  its  grand,  solid-like 
roll ;  and,  do  you  notice,  in  parts  it  curls  like  long, 
broken  ringlets,  curls  and  ripples,  but  is  always  the 
same?  What  a  power  it  suggests  I  Of  course,  the 
color  will  vary  in  the  light.  It  is  blue  and  green  in 
the  summer,  I  suppose ;  now  it  is  yellowish  here  and 
there,  and  grey.  There  have  been  great  floods  above, 
—  yonder  are  the  rapids  above  the  falls,  I  suppose? 
How  wonderfully  the  waters  come  leaping  along,  — 
like  an  angry  sea  I  " 

He  stood  for  some  time  watching  the  scene,  and 
noting  everything  that  struck  him.  Miss  Terry  joined 
some  members  of  the  company,  and  went  driving. 
Later  a  party  of  us  went  to  the  rapids  and  the  whirl- 
pool, where  Webb  was  drowned.     Irving  discussed  the 


374 


IMPliESSIONS   OF  AMERICA. 


t     ': 


I 


fatal  feat,  for  a  long  time,  with  one  of  the  men  who 
saw  the  swimmer  take  his  courageous  header  and  go 
bounding  through  the  rapids. 

"  It  was  there  where  he  disappeared,"  said  the  man, 
pointing  to  a  spot  where  the  waters  appeared  to  leap  as 
if  clearing  an  obstruction  ;  "  he  dived,  intending  to  go 
through  that  wave,  and  never  was  seen  again  alive.  It 
is  believed  his  head  struck  a  sunken  rock  there,  which 
stunned  him." 

Irving  stood  for  a  long  time  looking  at  this  part  of 
the  river,  discussing  tlie  various  theories  as  to  its 
depth.  "A  bold  fellow  !  "  he  exclaimed,  as  he  left  the 
place  ;  "  he  deserved  to  get  through  it.  Imagine  the 
coolness,  the  daring  of  it  I  lie  takes  a  quiet  dinner,  it 
seems,  at  his  hotel,  rests  a  little,  then  hires  a  boat, 
rows  to  the  place  where  the  rapids  fairly  begin,  strips 
and  dives  into  this  awful  torrent,  —  a  great  soul,  sir, 
any  man  who  has  the  nerve  for  such  an  enterprise  ! " 

We  walked  back  to  the  falls,  and  on  our  return  ob- 
served a  great  change  in  the  color  of  the  scene. 

"Quite  a  transformation  in  its  way,  is  it  not?"  said 
Irving ;  "  let  us  take  in  the  picture,  as  a  painter  might. 
The  horizon,  you  see,  is  a  bluish-purple ;  the  Canadian 
falls  have  a  grayish-blue  tint,  except  where  the  positive 
golden  yellow  of  the  water  comes  in ;  then,  as  it 
plunges  below,  the  foam  is  of  a  creamy  whiteness ;  the 
mist  and  spray  rise  up  a  warmish-gray  in  the  half- 
shaded  sunlight ;  the  snowy  rocks  are  white  against  it. 
The  sun  is  about  to  set,  I  suppose,  and  these  are  some 
of  its  premonitory  colors.  The  river,  you  see,  is  now 
a  deep  blue,  —  it  was  muddy-looking  this  morning,  — 


A  HOLIDAY  AT  NIAGARA. 


375 


and  the  trees  on  the  banks  are  a  warm  greyish-brown. 
Beyond  the  American  falls,  above  there,  where  it  is  like 
a  lake,  the  white  houses  are  whiter  still,  the  red  ones 
redder,  and  the  country  looks  as  if  it  had  quite  changed 
its  atmosphere.  A  great  stage-manager.  Nature  I  What 
wonders  can  be  done  with  effective  ligliting  1 " 

Then,  turning  away  to  go  into  the  house,  he  said, 
"  Do  you  remember  the  lighting  of  the  garden  scene  in 
*  Romeo  and  Juliet,'  —  the  change  from  sunset  to  night, 
from  sunset  to  moonlight,  from  moonlight  to  morning, 
and  the  motion  of  the  sunlit  trees,  as  if  a  zephyr  had 
touched  them  ?  " 

"I  do,  indeed!" 

''Well,  let  us  talk  of  something  else.  Niagara 
must  offer  to  artist  or  poet  a  continual  study.  Did 
you  notice  how  the  fir-trees  on  the  little  island  close  to 
the  Canadian  falls  are  twisted  and  warped,  as  if  they 
had  tried  to  turn  away  from  the  tempest,  and  had  been 
beaten  down  with  the  wind  and  snow?  You  were 
telling  me  one  day  about  a  scholarly  hermit,  who  had 
spent  his  life  at  a  lonely  place  on  the  Hudson.  That  is 
also  a  curious  storv, — the  life  and  death  of  Francis 
Abbott, '  the  hermit  of  Niagara,'  as  they  call  him  in  one 
of  the  old  guide-books.  He  first  appeared  here,  it 
seems,  on  a  summer  day  in  1839,  —  a  young  man,  tall, 
well-built,  but  pale  and  haggard.  He  carried  a  bundle 
of  blankets,  a  portfolio,  a  book,  and  a  flute  ;  went  to  a 
little  out-of-the-way  inn  and  took  a  room  ;  visited  the 
local  library ;  played  his  flute,  and  rambled  about  the 
country ;  got  permission  to  live  in  a  deserted  log-house 
near  the  head  of  Goat  Island  ;  lived  there  in  a  strange 


376 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


!'    M 


seclusion  during  two  winters,  then  built  himself  a 
cabin  at  Point  View,  near  the  American  falls,  and  did 
not  appear  to  shun  his  fellow-man  so  much  as  formerly. 
A  local  judge  became  quite  friendly  with  him ;  they 
would  meet  and  have  long  talks.  Sometimes,  too,  he 
would  enter  into  conversation  with  the  villagers,  and 
others  whom  he  encountered  on  his  rambles.  He 
talked  well,  they  say  ;  spoke  of  Asia  and  Greece  with 
familiarity,  and  liked  to  discuss  theological  questions. 
His  religious  views  were  akin  to  quakerism.  He  was 
a  fine  figure,  had  a  sorrowful  face,  and  was  attended 
by  a  dog,  which  trotted  at  his  heels  always.  During 
the  summer  he  lived  in  his  cabin  at  Point  View ;  he 
went  down  the  ferry-steps  and  bathed  in  the  river,  and, 
on  June  10,  1841,  he  lost  his  life  there,  —  after  two 
years  of  this  strange  solitude.  The  body  had  been  in 
the  water  ten  days  before  ic  was  found  at  the  outlet  of 
the  river.  The  villagers  broutrht  it  back  and  buried  it. 
They  went  to  his  cabin.  His  dog  guarded  the  door,  a 
cat  lay  asleep  on  his  rough  sofa,  books  and  music 
scattered  about.  There  was  no  vn'iting  to  be  found, 
though  tuc  local  judge  said  he  wrote  a  great  deal, 
chiefly  in  Latin,  and,  as  a  rule,  burned  his  work, 
whatever  it  was.  In  later  days  friends  and  relatives 
of  the  poor  young  fellow  came  to  Niagara,  and  identi- 
fied him  as  the  son  of  a  Quaker  gentleman  of  Plym- 
outh.    Rather  a  sad  story,  eh  ?  " 

"Yes,  very,  and  there  are  others,  less  romantic,  but 
more  tragic,  in  connection  with  the  falls." 
'   "None  more  sad,  after  all,  than  the  death  of  poor 
Webb.     It  is  true,  he  deliberately  risked  his  life.     I 


A  HOLIDAY  AT  NIAGARA. 


377 


but 


poor 
I.     I 


have  seen  it  stated  that  the  rapids  where  he  dived  are 
by  some  persons  estimated  as  only  twenty  or  thirty  feet 
deep.  Of  course  nothing  can  be  more  absurd.  The 
channel  is  only  three  hundred  feet  wide,  and  through 
this  gorge  rush  the  waters  of  five  great  lakes.  Calcu- 
lating the  volume  of  water,  and  the  velocity  of  it,  the 
scientists  who  estimate  the  depth  at  two  hundred  and 
fifty  feet  are  nearer  the  mark.  The  most  surprising 
thing  to  me  about  Niagara  is  the  fact  —  it  must  be  a 
fact  —  that  this  mighty  torrent,  after  falling  into  the 
river,  ploughs  its  way  along  the  bottom,  —  the  surface 
being  comparatively  calm,  —  drives  along  for  two 
miles,  and  then  leaps  up  from  its  imprisonment,  as 
it  were,  into  the  general  view,  a  wild,  fierce  torrent, 
with,  further  down,  that  awful  whirlpool.  Webb  knew 
the  force  of  it  all;  he  had  surveyed  it, — the  cruellest 
stretch  of  waters  in  the  world,  I  suppose,  —  and  yet  he 
took  that  header,  and  went  along  with  it  hand-over- 
hand, as  the  man  told  us,  and  with  an  easy  confidence 
that  was  heroic,  —  one  would  have  thought  the  water 
would  have  beaten  the  life  out  of  him  before  he  had 
time  to  rise  and  fight  it !  " 

"Not  long  since,"  I  said,  "there  was  a  picnic  party 
on  Goat  Island.  A  young  fellow,  I  think  the  father  of 
the  child  itself,  picked  up  a  little  girl,  and  in  fun  held 
it  over  the  rapids  above  the  falls.  The  child  struggled 
and  fell ;  he  leaped  in  after  it,  caught  it,  struggled 
gallantly  in  presence  of  the  child's  mother  and  the 
distracted  friends,  but  went  over  the  falls.  I  read  the 
incident  in  a  newspaper  chronicle,  and  have  it  put 
away  at  home  with  many  other  notes  about  the  falls, 


378 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


which  I  hoped  to  use  in  this  book.  Our  critics  v;ill, 
of  course,  recognize  the  difficulties  attending  the 
prcpaiation  of  these  Impressions.  We  have  worked  at 
them  in  odd  places,  and  at  curious  times.  One 
wonders  how  they  will  come  out." 

"  Oh,  all  right,  I  am  sure  I  "  Irving  replied ;  "  they 
are  quite  unpretentious,  and  it  is  delightful  to  note  how 
they  grow  up  and  assume  shape  and  form.  I  think 
it  was  a  happy  idea." 


IV. 

But  nobody  will  ever  know,  except  those  who  took 
part  in  the  work,  how  much  ingenuity,  patience,  and 
enterprise  were  expended  on  that  dinner.  It  was  ready 
to  the  minute.  The  guests  all  sat  down  together. 
There  were  turkeys  and  there  were  chickens,  too. 
Horsemen  had  ridden  hard  half  the  nifjht  to  brinff  them 
in.  There  were  plum-puddings,  also.  Lovely  maidens 
at  Buffalo  and  Niagara,  had  been  pressed  into  the  ser- 
vice of  stoning  them.  When  Stoker,  at  midnight,  in 
order  to  smooth  the  way,  had  telegraphed  that  "rare 
flowers  and  hot-house  fruits  can  be  dispensed  with  "  (he 
was  thinking  of  New  York,  Boston,  Chicago,  and 
Philadelphia),  the  landlady  had  looked  at  me  in  dis- 
may. "  There  isn't  a  flower  in  the  whole  neighborhood  ! 
I'm  afraid  they  are  expecting  too  much,"  she  said.  "Not 
at  all ;  it  is  only  Mr.  Stoker's  little  joke,"  I  replied, 
fearing  that  at  the  last  moment  the  entire  business 
might  fall  through.  As  the  reader  already  under- 
stands, it  did  not  fall  through  ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  was 


A  nOLIDAT  AT  NIAGARA. 


379 


a  great  and  surprising  success  ;  for,  when  Mr.  Howe  got 
up  to  propose  the  health  of  the  founder  of  the  feast,  he 
said,  "  This  has  been  the  first  English  dinner  we  have 
had  since  we  left  home,  and,  what  is  more,  wc  have 
eaten  it  off  English  plates, — not  those  little  dishes  and 
saucers  they  give  us  everywhere  in  America.  Not, 
ladies  and  gentlemen,  that  I  have  a  word  to  say  against 
the  American  food,  —  not  I,  —  because  it  is  good  and 
abundant ;  but  I  do  like  large  plates,  and  I  love  to  see  the 
joints  on  the  table  and  carved  before  our  eyes."  Every- 
body laughed  at  this  and  applauded ;  but  the  cheering 
increased,  and  was  followed  by  "  three  times  three  "  and 
the  chorus,  "  He's  a  jolly  good  fellow  I "  when  Mr. 
Howe  thanked  their  "host  and  chief,  Mr.  Irving,  for 
his  hospitality  and  kindness  that  day,  and  for  his  energy 
and  courage  in  bringing  them  all  from  the  old  country 
on  a  tour  in  the  New  World." 

It  was  nearly  six  when  we  left  Niagara  for  the  rail- 
way station,  in  every  kind  of  vehicle,  omnibus,  buggy, 
brougham,  and  carriage.  IVIr.  McHenry  and  a  party 
of  ladies  and  gentlemen  came  to  see  us  off.  The  mem- 
bers of  the  company  were  loud  in  their  expressions  of 
wonder  at  the  falls.  "  So  strange,"  said  one,  "  to  be 
sitting  down  to  dinner  in  view  of  them."  "What  a  day 
to  remember  I  "  exclaimed  another.  Tyars,  Andrews, 
Terriss,  Arnot,  and  some  others,  had  donned  the  water- 
proof dress,  known  to  every  visitor,  and  explored  the 
regions  below  the  falls.  Terriss  had  a  narrow  escape. 
There  were  special  dangers  to  be  encountered,  owing 
to  the  accumulations  of  ice ;  and,  at  the  hands  of  a 
party  of  Englishmen,  the  dangers  were  of  course  duly 


380 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


attacked.  Terries  slipped  upon  an  icy  descent,  and 
saved  himself  from  going  headlong  into  the  torrent  by 
clutching  a  jagged  rock,  which  severely  lacerated  his 
right  hand.  He  played  with  his  arm  in  a  sling  for 
several  nights  afterwards. 

One  of  the  saddest,  stories  ot  the  falls  is  the  history 
of  a  calamity  that  occurred  almost  at  this  very  spot,  in 
the  autumn  of  1875.  Miss  Philpott,  her  two  brothers, 
a  sister-in-law,  and  Miss  Philpott's  lover,  Ethelbert  Par- 
sons, went  through  the  Cave  of  the  Winds,  and  climbed 
over  the  rocks  towards  the  American  falls.  They  were 
residents  of  Niagara,  and  knew  the  ground.  The 
sheltered  eddies  in  the  lighter  currents  under  the  falls 
are  pleasant  bathing-places.  The  Philpott  party  took 
advantage  of  them.  Miss  Philpott  was  venturesome. 
She  bathed  near  one  of  the  strongest  currents.  Mr. 
Parsons,  seeing  her  in  danger,  went  to  her  rescue. 
Seeking  for  a  firm  foothold  for  both  of  them,  the  girl 
slipped  and  fell.  Parsons  sprang  for  her,  and  both 
were  carried  into  the  current.  He  caught  her  around 
the  waist.  The  young  lady  could  swim,  and  Parsons 
was  an  expert ;  they  struck  out  for  the  rocks  on  the 
other  side  of  the  current.  The  torrent  carried  them 
out.  By  and  by  Parsons  swam  on  his  back,  the  girl 
cleverly  supporting  herself  with  her  hand  upon  his 
shoulder.  Then  she  suddenly  pushed  him  away  from 
her,  —  the  inference  being  that  she  discovered  the  im- 
possibility of  both  being  saved, — flung  up  her  arms 
and  sank.  Parsons  turned  and  dived  after  her.  They 
were  seen  no  more  until  some  days  afterwards,  when  the 
bodies  were  recovered  at  the  whirlpool. 


A  HOLIDAY  AT  NIAGARA. 


381 


:sons 
the 
[lem 
girl 
his 
trom 
3  im- 


Terriss  and  his  friends  had  more  reason  than  thev 
quite  rcahzed  to  congratulate  themselves  upon  tht  fact 
that  they  were  enabled  to  comply  with  the  kindly  and 
considerate  programme  of  the  holiday,  which  arranged 
that  they  should  sleep  th.at  night  in  Toronto* 


382 


IMPBE8SI0NS  OF  AMERICA. 


XTX. 


(! 


FROM  TORONTO  TO  BOSTON. 

Lake  Ontario  —  Canadian  Pastimes  —  Tobogganing  —  On  an  Ice  Slide 
—  "Shooting  Niagara,  and  After" — Toronto  Students  —  Dressing 
for  the  Theatre  —  "  God  Save  the  Queen  "  —  Incidents  of  Travel  — 
Locomotive  Vagaries  —  Stopping  the  Train  —  "Fined  One  Hundred 
Dollars  "  —  The  Hotels  and  the  Poor  —  Tenement  Houses  — The  Stage 
and  the  Pidpit  —  Actore,  Past  and  Present  —  The  Stage  and  the  Bar- 
room—  The  Second  Visit  to  Boston  —  Enormous  Receipts  —A  Glance 
at  the  Financial  Results  of  the  Tour. 


I. 

The  blizzard  was  in  full  possession  of  Toronto,  but 
the  air  was  dry,  the  sky  blue  and  sunny.  There  was 
a  brief  interval  for  a  snow-storm.  But  it  came  in  a 
bright,  frosty  fashion.  The  sidewalks  were  hard. 
Sleighs  dashed  along  the  leading  thoroughfares.  Lake 
Ontario  was  a  vast  plain,  upon  which  disported  skaters, 
walkers,  riders,  drivers,  and  that  most  fairy-like  of 
"white-wings,"  the  ice-boat.  Did  you  ever  fly  across 
the  silvery  ice  on  runners,  with  sails  bending  before 
the  wind?  It  is  an  experience.  You  may  spin  along 
at  sixty  miles  an  hour,  or  more.  If  you  are  not 
wrapped  to  the  eyes  in  fur  you  may  also  freeze  to 
death.  The  sensation  of  wild,  unchecked  motion  is  in- 
tensely exhilarating ;  but,  if  you  are  a  novice,  want  of 
care  or  lack  of  grip  may  send  you  flying  into  space,  or 
scudding  over  the  ice  on  your  own  account.  A  secure 
seat  is  only  obtained  by  accommodating   yourself  all 


FROM  TORONTO  TO  BOSTON. 


383 


not 
e  to 
isin- 

t  of 
e,  or 

cure 
f  all 


the  time  to  the  motion  of  your  most  frail,  but  elegant, 
arrangement  of  timbers  and  skating-irons. 

The  leading  characteristic  winter  sport  of  Canada  is 
Tobogganing.  Tlie  word  "  toboggan "  is  Indian  for 
"sled."  The  French  call  it  Traine  sauvage.  Two  or 
three  light  boards  deftly  fastened  together,  a  mattress 
laid  upon  them,  a  sort  of  hollow  prow  in  uont,  into 
which  a  lady  thrusts  her  feet,  —  that  is  a  "  toboggan." 
It  is  like  a  toy  canoe,  or  boat,  with  a  flat  bottom  and  no 
sides.  The  lady  passenger  sits  in  front ;  the  gentleman 
behind.  He  trails  his  legs  upon  the  ice-slide,  and  thus 
guides  the  machine.  It  is  not  necessary,  of  course, 
that  there  should  be  two  passengers ;  nor,  being  two, 
that  one  of  them  should  be  a  lady.  The  contrivance 
was  invented  by  the  North  American  Indians.  They 
used  it  for  the  transportation  of  burdens.  The  squaws 
sometimes  made  it  available  for  hauling  along  their 
children.  The  pioneer  troops  of  Courcellcs,  Tracy, 
and  Montcalm,  made  a  kit  carriage  of  it. 

There  is  a  famous  Tobogganing  Club  at  Toronto. 
It  has  a  slide  of  half  a  mile  in  length,  down  the  side 
of  a  hill  in  a  picturesque  suburban  valley.  The  slide 
starts  at  an  angle  of  about  forty-five  degrees ;  then  it 
runs  along  a  short  flat ;  then  it  drops,  as  if  going 
over  a  frozen  Niagara,  to  shoot  out  along  a  great 
incline,  that  might  be  the  frozen  rapids.  To  stand  at 
the  summit  and  watch  the  gay  toboggans  slip  away, 
and  then  disappear  down  the  Niagara-like  precipice,  to 
shoot  out  as  a  bolt  from  a  gun  along  the  remainder 
of  the  pass,  is  to  realize  the  possible  terrors  of  a  first 
trip. 


384 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


II 


Miss  Terry  watched  the  wild-looking  business  with 
amazement,  and  built  up  her  courage  on  the  experiences 
of  the  ladies  who  took  the  flying  leap  with  delight. 
They  were  dressed  in  pretty  flannel  costumes,  and  their 
faces  glowed  with  healthful  excitement.  But  they  were 
practised  tobogganers.  Some  of  them  could  not  re- 
member when  they  took  their  first  slide.  A  sturdy 
officer  of  the  club  explained  the  simplicity  of  the  sport 
to  the  famous  actress,  and  offered  to  let  her  try  half 
the  slide,  beginning  at  the  section  below  Niagara. 

"  I  ought  to  have  made  my  will  first ;  but  you  can 
give  my  diamond  ring  to  your  wife,"  she  exclaimed, 
waving  her  hand  to  me,  as  she  drew  her  cloak  about 
her  shoulders  and  stepped  into  the  frail-looking  sled. 

As  she  and  her  stalwart  cavalier,  in  his  Canadian 
flannels,  flew  safely  along  the  slide,  her  young  English 
friend  and  admirer  followed.  They  had  not  been  upon 
the  wintry  scene  ten  minutes,  in  fact,  before  both  of 
them  were  to  be  seen  skimming  the  mountain-slide  at 
the  speed  of  the  Flying  Dutchman  of  the  Midland  Rail- 
way, and  at  one  point,  much  faster,  I  expect. 

"  Oh,  it  was  awful  —  wonderful  —  magnificent !  " 
Miss  Terry  exclaimed,  when  she  had  mounted  the  hill 
again,  ready  for  a  second  flight.  "  I  have  never  ex- 
perienced anything  so  surprising,  —  it  is  like  flying ; 
for  a  moment  you  cannot  breathe  I  " 

And  away  she  went  again,  followed  at  respectful 
distances,  to  avoid  collision,  by  other  excursionists,  the 
elide  fairly  flashing  with  the  bright  flannels  and  gay 
head-dresses  of  the  merry  tobogganers. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  on  her  return,  "it   is   a  splendid 


FliOM  TORONTO  TO  BOSTON'. 


385 


pastime.  The  Canadians  arc  quite  right,  —  it  beats 
skating,  ice-boating,  trotting,  everything  in  the  way 
of  locomotion  ;  what  matters  the  cold,  with  such  exer- 
cise as  tobogganing  ?  "  ^  «  • 

"The  Montreal  Daily  Star," during  this  Toronto  week, 
had  a  brief  description  of  tobogganing,  apropos  of  the 
winter  carnival  that  was  being  held  in  the  neighboring 
city,  during  our  too  brief  visit  to  Canada.  A  proper 
elide  is  constructed  on  "  scientific  principles,  and  blends 
H  maximum  of  enjoyment  with  a  minimum  of  danger." 
"Tlie  Star"  has  a  picture  of  the  enjoyment  and  the 
danger.  It  depicts  an  enormous  mountain  slide  by 
torchlight.  Many  sleds  are  coming  down  in  fine,  pict- 
uresque style.  There  are  wayside  incidents  of  spills, 
however,  which  suggest  a  good  deal  of  possible  dis- 
comfort. "  Try  your  luck  on  one  of  tlicse  sleds,"  says 
the  descriptive  text.  "Take  two  or  three  girls  with 
you.  That  is  indispensable ;  and  tliere  is  a  shrewd 
suspicion  that  much  of  the  popularity  of  tobogganing 
comes  from  its   almost  essential  admission  of  ladies. 


It ! " 
hill 
ex- 

insj; 

jtful 
the 


gav 


Indid 


»  Tobogganing.  —  Saturday,  Februaiy  24th,  was  a  gala  day  in  the  an- 
nals of  the  Toronto  Toboggan  Club.  The  slide  was  in  perfect  condition,  — 
glare  ice  fi-om  top  to  bottom.  About  eighty  members  were  out  with  their 
toboggans,  enjoying  the  slide,  the  only  fault  of  which  is  that  it  is  too  fast 
for  the  length  of  run  at  the  bottom.  The  committee  are,  however,  making 
arrangements  to  overcome  this  defect.  During  the  latter  part  of  the 
afternoon  several  members  of  Mr.  Ii-ving's  company  and  friends  were 
present  by  invitation,  escorted  by  Mr.  Bram  Stoker.  Miss  Terry  drove 
a  young  friend.  Miss  Helen  II.  Ilatton  (who  is  visiting  Toronto  with  her 
father),  out  to  the  grounds,  and  they  were  both  initiated  into  the  Canadian 
winter  sport.  Miss  Teny  was  completely  captivated  by  this  entirely  new 
sensation,  and  only  regi*eited  that  she  was  unable  to  enjoy  it  longer.  She 
entered  into  it  with  the  greatest  zest.  The  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  the 
club  gave  her  a  very  hearty  welcome.  —  Newspaper  Reports. 


386 


IMPIiESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


Let  them  be  well  wra])peJ  up.  Take  a  firm  seat  on 
the  cushions,  never  stir  .an  inch,  and  all  will  be  right. 
They  may  shut  their  eyes  .ind  utter  their  little  shrieks ; 
but,  at  their  peril,  they  must  not  move.  You  occupy 
your  station  at  the  rear.  The  position  is  optional. 
The  general  mode  is  to  lie  on  the  left  side,  propped  on 
one  arm,  with  right  leg  extended  ;  but  some  sit,  others 
kneel,  and  on  short,  easy  inclines  some  venture  to 
stand.  One  invariable  rule  is  to  hold  on  to  your  girl ; 
an  occasional  squeeze  may  be  allowed ;  indeed,  there 
are  critical  moments  when  it  cannot  be  helped.  All  is 
ready;  the  signal  is  given,  and  the  descent  begins. 
At  first  it  is  gradual,  and  one  might  fancy  that  he 
could  regulate  it ;  but,  like  a  flash,  the  grand  propulsion 
is  given ;  like  an  arrow's,  the  speed  is  instantaneous 
and  resistless.  A  film  passes  before  your  eyes  ;  your 
breath  is  caught.  One  moment  you  feel  yourself  thrown 
into  space  ;  the  next  you  hear  the  welcome  crunch  of 
the  firm  snow,  and  then  comes  the  final  tumble,  topsy- 
turvy, higgledy-piggledy,  in  the  fleecy  bank  at  the 
foot.  There  is  the  crisis  of  the  fun,  and  you  must 
take  particular  care  of  the  girls  just  then.  The  weary 
ascent  next  begins,  to  be  followed  by  another  vertigi- 
nous descent,  and  still  another,  till  the  whole  after- 
noon, or  the  whole  of  the  starry  evening,  is  spent  in 
this  exquisite  amusement." 


». 


.!.■    .u.  '    "■'  /.vn" 


FROM  TORONTO  TO  BOSTON. 


387 


51- 
ir- 
in 


The  short  season  at  Toronto  was  very  successful,  in 
every  way.  A  great  botly  of  students  filled  the  gallery 
of  the  Opera  House  every  night.  Stalls,  boxes,  and 
dress-circle  were  crowded,  the  audience  being  in  full 
evening  dress.  The  house  looked  like  a  London  thea- 
tre on  a  first  night.  Boston  and  Philadelphia  were  the 
only  cities  that  had  shown  anything  like  an  approach 
to  uniformity  in  dressing  for  the  theatre  in  America, 
though  New  York  made  a  good  deal  of  display  in  re- 
gard to  bonnets,  costumes,  and  diamonds.  New  York 
copies  the  French  more  than  the  English  in  the  matter 
of  dressing  for  the  theatre,  consulting  convenience 
rather  than  style,  —  a  very  sensible  plan. 

On  the  Saturday  night,  after  repeated  calls  and  loud 
requests  for  a  speech,  Irving,  in  his  "Louis  XI."  robes, 
stepped  down  to  the  footlights,  amidst  thunders  of  ap- 
plause. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "I  regret  that  I 
have  to  appear  before  you  as  somebody  else,  though  I 
feel  quite  incompetent  in  my  own  person  to  respond  to 
your  kindness  at  all  as  I  could  wish,  or  in  such  a  way 
as  to  make  you  understand  how  keenly  I  feel  the  com- 
pliment of  your  enthusiastic  welcome.  I  thank  you 
with  all  my  heart  for  myself  and  comrades,  and  more 
especially  for  my  co-worker,  IVIiss  Terry,  for  the  right- 
royal  Canadian,  I  will  say  British,  welcome  you  have 
given  us.  I  can  only  regret  that  the  arrangements  of 
this  present  tour  do  not  enable  me  to  extend  my  per- 
sonal knowledge  of  Canada  beyond  Toronto." 


388 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


"  Come  again  I "  shouted  a  voice  from  the  gallery, 
quite  after  the  mjuner  of  the  London  gods;  "come 
again,  sir !"  ' 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  Irving  replied,  amidst 
shouts  of  laughter  and  applause.  "  I  will  accept  your 
invitation." 

"  Hurrah  !  "  shouted  the  gallery  ;  and  the  house  gen- 
erally applauded  Mr.  Irving's  prompt  and  gratifying 
repartee. 

"I  world  have  liked,"  said  Irving,  pulling  his  "  Louis 
XL"  robes  around  him,  "  to  have  travelled  right  through 
the  Dominion,  and  have  shaken  hands  with  your  neigh- 
bors of  Montreal,  Quebec,  and  Ottawa.  That,  how- 
ever, is  only  a  pleasure  deferred.  In  the  Indian  lan- 
guage, I  am  told,  Toronto  means  *The  place  of  meet- 
ing.' To  you  and  me,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  brother 
and  sister  subjects  of  the  English  throne  "  — 

A  burst  of  applause  compelled  the  speaker  to  pause 
for  some  seconds. 

"  To  us,  ladies  and  gentlemen,  to  you  before  the  cur- 
tain, to  us  behind  it,  I  hope  Toronto  may  mean  '  The 
place  of  meeting  again  and  again.'" 

His  last  words  of  thanks  were  drowned  in  applause. 
The  students  tried  to  recall  him  again,  even  after  he  had 
spoken.  The  band  struck  up  "  God  save  the  Queen," 
and  a  few  minutes  later  the  audience  was  on  its  way 
home,  and  Irving  was  conducting  a  rehearsal  of  scenes 
in  "Much  Ado,"  and  "The  Merchant  of  Venice," 
rendered  necessary  by  the  illnesses  which  are  referred 
to  in  another  chapter. 


FBOM  TORONTO  TO  BOSTON. 


389 


III. 

Two  hours  after  midnight  we  were  once  more  on 
the  cars,  bound  for  Boston  J 

"These  long  journeys,"  said  Irving,  "are  most  dis- 
tressing. I  wonder  what  sort  of  a  trip  this  will  be. 
We  ought  to  arrive  at  Boston,  on  Sunday,  at  about 
six,  they  say." 

"The  agent  of  the  road,"  replied  Mr.  Falser,  "tells 
me  he  hopes  to  make  good  time.  But  I  told  him  that 
the  only  occasion  when  we  have  done  a  long  journey  on 
time  has  been  when  we  had  no  railroad  agent  to  take 
x.are  of  us.  They  are  very  good  fellows,  and  anxious 
to  help  us,  but  they  have  been  unfortunate.  Our  flat 
baggage  car  is  a  trouble.  You  will  remember  that  the 
Erie  could  not  take  it,  and  some  of  the  other  companies 
consider  it  an  extra  risk.  It  affords  an  excuse  for  not 
exceeding  a  certain  speed.  Besides  this,  we  have  not 
had  so  much  snow  in  America  for  over  twenty  years 
as  this  winter.     Our  trains  have  been  snowed  up,  and 


>» 


1  Mr.  Ilenry  Irving,  Miss  Ellon  Terry,  and  their  company  left  for 
Boston  early  in  the  morninp:,  hy  special  train,  over  the  "  West  Shore 
route."  The  train  consisted  of  Mr.  Trving's  private  car,  two  Pullmans,  and 
three  haggage-cars.  The  Piillraans,  two  of  those  in  ordinaiy  use  on  the 
West  Shore  road,  are  simply  magnificent  in  their  internal  arrangement's, 
possessing  the  latest  improvements,  and  affording  to  the  traveller  the 
greatest  possible  comfort.  Among  the  innovations  not  found  in  the 
ordinary  "  sleepers  "  are  the  racks  on  which  clothes  may  be  deposited ; 
electric  call-bells  attached  to  each  berth,  communicating  with  the  porter's 
berth;  a  small  kitchen,  where  light  refreshments  may  be  prepared,  and  the 
whole  structure  running  on  paper  wheels,  so  that  the  rattle  and  jar  of  the 
ordinary  car  is  entirely  abolished.  The  train  was  in  charge  of  Mr.  G.  J. 
Weeks,  of  Buffalo,  northern  passenger  agent  of  the  company,  who  accom- 
pauicd  the  party  to  Boston. —  Toronto  Mail, 


390 


IMPHESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


this  has  occasioned  all  sorts  of  delays,  as  you  know. 
But  I  hope  we  will  get  through  to  Boston  in  good  time." 

We  did  not,  "  by  a  large  majority,"  as  Bardwell 
Slote  says.  It  was  a  tedious  and  unsntisfactory  jour- 
ney. So  soon  as  we  left  the  West  Shore  line  we 
began  to  have  trouble.  It  was  on  a  short  section  of  an 
unimportant  road  that  we  encountered  most  delay,  the 
character  of  which  will  be  best  illustrated  by  a  brief 
conversation  between  Irving  and  several  other  per- 
sons :  — 

"Well,  what  is  the  matter  now,  George?"  Irving 
asked  the  colored  conductor  of  the  private  car. 

"  Oh,  this  is  the  third  time  he's  stopped  in  the  woods 
to  tinker  up  his  darned  old  engine,"  said  George ; 
"  seems  it  needs  it !  " 

Everybody  laughed  at  this  rough  criticism  of  the 
engineer  and  his  locomotive. 

"Stops  in  the  woods,  eh?"  says  Irving,  — "that  no- 
body may  see  him  ?  But  suppose  another  train  comes 
along  ?  " 

"  If  the  brakeman  should  neglect  to  go  back  and  flag 
it,  there  might  be  no  performance  at  the  Boston  Thea- 
tre on  Monday,"  said  Falser.  "That  is  how  Wagner, 
the  car-builder,  lost  his  life.  He  was  killed  iu  one  of 
his  own  cars,  on  the  New  York  Central.  The  train 
stopped  suddenly,  —  it  is  said  somebody  on  board 
pulled  the  check-string  in  joke,^  —  and  an  oncoming 

^During  the  journey  from  Boston  to  Baltimore  an  inquiring  member  of 
Mr.  Ii*ving's  company  pulled  the  check-string,  "just  to  see  what  the  thing 
was."  There  was  great  consternation  on  board,  neither  guard  nor  driver 
knowing  what  had  happened.  The  inquiring  gentleman  offered  a  frank  ex- 
planation, and  the  train  went  on  again ;  but  the  monotony  of  the  remainder  of 


FROM  TORONTO   TO  BOSTON. 


391 


train,  not  being  warned,  ran  into  them,  and  Mr.  "Wag- 
ner was  killed." 

"Ah,"  Irving  replied,  "there  must  liave  been  a  good 
deal  of  flag-signalling  done  on  this  journey  of  ours, 
seeing  how  often  we  have  stopped." 

"Yes,  that's  so  ;  yah,  yah  I  "  remarks  the  privileged 
colored  servant. 

"  I  don't  think  any  of  the  tracks  we  have  crossed  are 
as  good  as  the  Pennsylvania,"  said  Irving ;  "  they  are 
certainly  not  as  good  as  the  Midland  or  Great  West- 
ern in  England.  The  West  Shore  road  is  evidently  a 
fine  one  ;  but  I  have  more  than  once  during  our  travels 
been  reminded  of  a  story  I  came  across  recently,  relat- 
ing to  a  passenger's  question  :  '  We've  struck  a  smoother 


the  journey  was  relieved  by  a  little  practical  joke  at  our  friend's  expense. 
An  official  was  introduced  into  the  conspiracy,  and  the  delinquent  was  formal- 
ly fined  a  hundred  dollars.  The  rules  of  the  company  and  the  law  of  the  land 
were  quoteJ  against  him.  Irving  explained  to  him  the  enormity  of  his 
offence,  and,  after  a  little  outburst  against  the  tyranny  of  American  laws  as 
compared  with  those  of  England,  the  defendant  paid  twenty  dollars  on 
account,  and  a  subscription  was  started  to  raise  the  remainder.  "  I  am 
glad  the  affair  occurred,"  said  the  offender,  an  hour  or  two  later,  "  if  only 
for  the  pleasure  it  has  given  me  to  find  how  well  I  stand  with  my  col- 
leagues ;  it  is  quite  touching  the  way  they  have  stood  by  me  in  purse  and 
in  friendly  words,"  Alas  for  the  sentiment  of  the  tiling !  —  most  of  the  sub- 
scribers were  in  the  secret.  At  Baltimore  imaginary  despatches  passed  be- 
tween Mr.  Abbey  and  the  railway  authorities,  and  the  fine  was  withdrawn, 
the  President,  at  New  York,  being  satisfied  that  there  was  no  malice  in  Mr. 

's  strange  interference  with  the  working  of  the  train.    The  victim 

thereupon  wrote  a  letter  of  thanks  to  Mr.  Abbey,  had  quite  a  pathetic  inter- 
view with  Irving  on  the  happy  termination  of  the  contretemps,  and  in- 
sisted upon  treating  the  chief  subscribers  to  champagne,  over  which  he 
made  so  cordial  and  excellent  n  speech  that  everybody  shook  hands  with 
hun,  and  said  he  was  "  a  real  good  fellow,"  —  which  is  perfectly  true,  and 
a  good  actor  to  boot.  I  would  not  have  mentioned  this  incident  but  that 
the  opportunity  of  an  appropriate  foot-note  overbeara  my  self-denial ;  and, 
after  aJl,  it  was  a  very  harmless  piece  of  fun. 


392 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA, 


strip  of  road,  have  we  not?'  The  Arkansas  railway 
conductor  replied,  'No,  we've  only  run  off  the  track.'  " 

"Yah!  yah!"  shouted  George,  as  he  disappeared 
to  tell  the  story  to  Peter  in  the  kitchen. 

"The  newspaper  that  told  the  story  added,  as 
American  journals  are  apt  to  do,  a  line  or  two  of  its 
own,  to  the  effect  that  the  Arkansas  conductor's  reply 
was  almost  as  uncomplimentary  as  that  of  an  Eastern 
conductor,  who,  upon  being  discharged,  said,  *  Well,  I 
was  intending  to  quit  anyway,  for  there  is  nothing  left 
of  your  old  road  but  two  streaks  of  iron  rust  and  a 
right  of  way.'" 


IV. 

During  one  of  the  very  long  delays  in  question 
Irving  and  I  talked  of  many  things. 

"  You  were  speaking  of  the  waste  of  food  at  hotels  and 
restaurants  one  day,"  Irving  remarked.  "  I  am  told  that 
at  some  of  the  best  houses  in  Cliicago  the  clean  scraps 
that  are  left  on  dishes  after  each  meal  are  collected  and 
given  to  poor  families  every  day.  Children  with  large 
baskets  call  for  them.  Another  class  of  scraps  go  to 
charitable  institutions,  more  particularly  Roman  Catho- 
lic establishments.  These  are  the  leavings  of  the 
carver's  tables  in  the  kitchens.  One  is  glad  to  know 
this,  for  I,  too,  have  often  been  struck  with  the  abun- 
dance that  is  taken  away  untouched  from  tables 
where  I  have  dined ;  though  I  have  seen  nothing  of  the 
public  breakfast  and  dining  rooms.  It  is  quite  a 
system  in  England,  I  believe,  the  collection  of  food  for 
the  humbler  '  homes '  and  charities  ;  but  one  does  not  see 


FROM  TORONTO  TO  BOSTON. 


393 


le 


!e 


in  America  any  poor  of  the  abject,  poverty-stricken 
class  that  is  familiar  at  home.  Life  to  many  must, 
nevertheless,  be  a  bitter  struggle. 
'  "There  are  many  who  are  well  off;  thousands  who 
would  be  happier  even  in  the  most  wretched  districts 
of  Ireland.  An  Irish  friend  of  mine,  in  New  York, 
said  to  me  only  the  other  day,  *  The  worst  hut  in  Con- 
nemara  is  a  palace  to  some  of  the  tenement-house 
dens  where  my  countrymen  herd  together  in  New 
York.' " 

"They  don't  go  West,  I  am  told,  as  the  Germans 
and  Swedes  and  Norwecrians  do.  It  is  a  little  odd 
that  they  do  not  take  full  advantage  of  the  unrestricted 
freedom  of  the  West,  and  the  gift  of  land  which  can 
be  obtained  from  the  American  government.  Sixty 
acres,  is  it  not?" 

"Yes,  that  is  the  endowment  America  offers  to 
settlers  in  some  of  her  finest  territory ;  and  it  is  true 
that,  as  a  rule,  the  Irish  do  not  become  farmers  on  this 
side  of  the  Atlantic.  They  prefer  city  life,  even  with 
its  disabilities.  When  I  was  in  America  one  hot  sum- 
mer, two  years  ago,  children  of  the  poor,  who  live  in 
the  common  tenement-houses  down-town  in  New  York, 
were  dying  of  the  heat  at  the  rate  of  hundreds  a  day. 
In  her  most  crowded  alleys  London  has  nothing  to 
compare  with  the  lodging-houses  in  the  poorer  districts 
of  New  York  for  squalor  and  misery.  But  human 
nature  is  alike  all  the  world  over  ;  more  than  one  rich 
man  collects  heavy  rents  from  these  death-traps." 

"  Just  as  a  few  of  our  fellow-countrymen  in  London 
supplement  their  rents  by  the  contributions  of  infamous 


394  IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 

tenants.  I  dare  say  some  of  these  hypocrites  make 
speeches  against  the  stage,  and  go  ostentatiously  to 
church ;  otherwise  they  would  be  found  out  by  their 
associates.  Religion  is,  indeed,  a  useful  cloak  for  these 
gentry.  It  is  gratifying  to  find  that  in  some  Ameri- 
can cities,  that  are  noted  for  their  church  discipline, 
the  preachers  are  not  afraid  to  tell  their  flocks  that, 
properly  used,  the  stage,  as  a  moral  teacher,  is  not 
unworthy  of  alliance  with  the  pulpit. 

"Did  Mr.  Beecher  talk  about  the  morality  of  the 
stage,  or  its  relations  to  the  public  ?  " 

"  No,  but  one  of  the  writers  for  a  Brooklyn  journal 
asked  me  some  questions  on  the  subject.  I  told  him 
that  the  world  has  found  out  that  they  live  just  like 
other  people,  and  that,  as  a  rule,  they  are  observant  of 
all  that  makes  for  the  sweet  sanctities  of  life,  and  they 
are  as  readily  recognized  and  welcomed  in  the  social 
circle  as  the  members  of  any  other  profession.  The 
stage  has  literally  lived  down  the  rebuke  and  reproach 
under  which  it  formerly  cowered,  and  actors  and  ac- 
tresses receive  in  societv,  as  do  the  members  of  other 
professions,  exactly  the  treatment  which  is  earned  by 
their  personal  conduct.  He  asked  me  about  the 
morality  of  attending  the  theatre,  and  I  said  I  should 
think  the  worst  performances  seen  on  any  of  our  stages 
cannot  be  so  bad  as  drinking  for  a  corresponding  time 
in  what  you  call  here  a  bar-room,  and  what  we  term  a 
gin-palace.  The  drinking  is  usually  done  in  bad  com- 
pany, and  is  often  accompanied  by  obscenity.  Where 
drink  and  low  people  come  together  these  things  must 
be.     The  worst  that  can  come  of  stage  pandering  to 


FROM  TORONTO  TO  BOSTON. 


395 


le 
a 


the  corr  ipt  tastes  of  its  basest  patrons  cannot  be  any- 
thing like  this,  and,  as  a  rule,  the  stage  holds  out  long 
against  the  invitation  to  pander  ;  nd  such  invitations, 
from  the  publicity  and  decorum  that  attend  the  whole 
matter,  are  neither  frequent  nor  eager.  He  informed 
me  that  the  clergy,  as  a  rule,  —  he  used  the  term  dis- 
senting clergy,  I  suppose,  as  an  explanation  to  me  to 
denote  the  class  who  are  not  Episcopalians,  that  I 
might  the  better  compare  them  with  tlu  ministers  at 
home,  —  he  told  me  that  they  are  opposed  to  theatres. 
He  asked  me  what  I  felt  about  this.  I  told  him  I 
thought  that  both  here  and  in  England  the  clerical 
profession  are  becoming  more  liberal  in  their  views. 
Some  people  think  they  can  live  and  bring  up  their 
children  in  such  a  way  as  to  avoid  all  temptation  of 
body  and  mind,  and  be  saved  nine-tenths  of  the  re- 
sponsibility of  self-control.  But  that  seems  to  me  to 
be  a  foolish  notion.  You  must  be  in  the  world,  though 
you  need  not  be  of  it.  The  best  way  for  the  clergy  to 
make  the  theatre  better  is  not  to  stay  away  from  it, 
and  shun  the  people  who  play  in  it,  but  to  bring  public 
opinion  to  bear  upon  it,  —  to  denounce  what  is  bad 
and  to  encourage  what  is  good.  When  I  was  a  boy  I 
never  went .  to  the  theatre  except  to  see  a  Shake- 
spearian play,  and  I  endeavored  to  make  my  theatrical 
experiences  not  only  a  source  of  amusement,  but  of 
instruction.' " 


o 


396  IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


"It  was  .1  glorious  audience,"  said  the  "Boston 
Daily  Globe,"  of  February  26,  "  that  welcomed  Irving 
and  Terry  back  to  Boston  last  evening.  No  better  evi- 
dence of  the  great  popularity  of  the  English  artists 
could  have  been  given  than  that  which  was  implied  in 
the  presence  of  such  an  assemblage.  The  Boston  was 
thronged,  and  the  gathering  represented  the  best  class 
of  our  play-goers,  —  a  company  that  accorded  the  stars 
a  cordial  greeting  both,  and  that  was  appreciative  of 
all  the  excellences  that  marked  the  entertainment." 

The  theatre  was  crowded  in  all  parts.  "Louis  XI." 
and  "  The  Belle's  Stratagem  "  were  played.  "  Much 
Ado  "  closed  the  engagement.  It  was  received  by  the 
audience  as  if  it  were  a  revelatioti  of  stage  work,  and 
criticised  in  the  press  in  a  §imilar  spirit.  At  the  end 
of  the  play  the  audience  summoned  the  leading  actors 
before  the  curtain  over  and  over  again.  It  was  a  scene 
of  the  most  unaffected  excitement.  At  last  there  arose 
cries  of  "  A  speech  ! "  "A  speech  ! "  to  which  Irving 
responded,  visibly  moved  by  the  enthusiasm  of  his  Bos- 
ton admirers  and  friends.     He  said  :  — 

"  Gentlemen  and  Ladies,  —  I  have  no  words  in 
which  to  express  my  thanks  for  your  kindness  ;  '  only 
my  blood  speaks  to  you  in  my  veins.'  A  few  weeks 
since  we  came  here,  and  you  received  us  with  un- 
bounded hospitality,  and  gave  us  a  welcome  that 
touched  us  deeply,  —  a  true  Boston  welcome.  (Ap- 
plause.)    Wc   come   back,    and   you  treat  us  not  as 


FROM  TORONTO  TO  BOSTON. 


397 


strangers,  but  as  old  friends.  (Applause.)  Again,  I 
say,  I  can  find  no  words  adequately  to  convey  our 
thanks.  I  need  not  tell  you  that  this  is  to  us  a  matter 
of  the  deepest  gratitude  and  pleasure,  for  it  is  a  proof 
that  we  have  pcrhfips  realized  some  of  your  expecta- 
tions, and  have  not  absolutely  disappointed  you.  (Ap- 
plause.) I  say  *  we,'  because  I  speak  in  behalf  of  all,  — 
not  for  myself  alone,  but  for  my  comrades,  and  espe- 
cially for  one  who  has,  I  am  sure,  won  golden  opinions  ; 
you  know  to  whom  I  allude  (Applause,  and  cries  of 
'Yes  ! '  '  Yes  ! ')  — my  friend,  and  fellow-artist.  Miss 
Ellen  Terry.  (Applause  and  cheers.)  When  we  have 
recrossed  tlie  Atlantic,  and  are  in  our  homes,  we  shall 
ever  bear  you  in  our  kindliest  memories.  I  hope  to  be 
here  again.  (Applause,  cheers,  and  shouts,  'Come 
again  ! '  'That's  right  I ')  Even  before  the  present  year 
closes  I  hope  to  be  with  you.  (Cheers.)  Once  more 
I  thank  you  with  all  my  heart,  and  bid  you  good-night, 
only  hoping  tliat  your  memories  of  us  may  be  as  agree- 
able as  those  we  shall  cherish  of  you."  (Applause  and 
cheers.) 


.p- 
as 


This  second  viait,  it  is  agreed  on  all  hands,  brought 
more  money  into  the  treasury  of  the  Boston  than  had 
ever  before  been  taken  during  one  week  at  that  or  any 
other  theatre  in  the  city,  namely,  $24,087,  —  and  this 
was  the  largest  sum  that  had  been  received  during  any 
previous  week  of  the  Irving  engagement. 

It  will  be  interesting,  at  tliis  period  of  the  tour,  to 
glance  at  its  financial  results.  The  following  figures 
are  taken  from  the  cash-book  of  Mr.  J.  H.  Falser,  the 


398 


JMPBESSIONS  OF  AMEBIC  A. 


business  manager  and  treasurer,  who  supplied  them  to 
the  "  Boston  Herald,"  and  "  vouched  for  their  absolute 
accuracy  " :  — 


New  York — first  week . 

New  York  —  second  week 

New  York  —  third  week 

New  York —  fourth  week 

i^hiladelphia —  first  week 

Philadeljihia  —  second  week 

Boston  —  first  week 

Boston  —  second  week  .  ' 

Baltimore — one  week  . 

Brooklyn  —  one  week    . 

Chicago  —  first  week 

Chicago  —  second  week 

St.  Louis  —  one  week    . 

Cincinnati  —  one  week  . 

Indianapolis  (rt  nights)  and  Columbus  (2  nights) 

Chicago  (return)  —  one  week 

Detroit  (2  nights)  and  Toronto  (3  nights)  *  . 

Boston  (return)  —  one  week 


$15,772  00 
18,714  00 
18,880  00 
22,321  50 
16,128  50 
16,780  50 
18,845  50 
16.885  00 
9,952  00 
12,468  00 
17,048  75 
19,117  50 
13,719  00 
11,412  00 
8,700  50 
18,308  75 
13,430  50 
24,087  00 


The  total  receipts  in  cities  where  Mr.  Irving  has 
played  more  than  one  week  were  as  follows  :  — 


New  York  —  four  weeks 
Boston  —  three  weeks   . 
Chicago —  three  weeks . 
Philadelphia  —  two  weeks 


$75,687  60 
59,817  50 
64,475  00 
32,909  00 


The  total  receipts  of  the  tour,  thus  far,  have  been 
$292,571. 


'  One  day's  rest  was  taken  at  Niagara  Falls. 


WASniNOTON,   ETC. 


399 


XX. 


WASHINGTON,    NEW    ENGLAND, 
"RETURN    VISITS." 


AND     SOME 


From  Rail  to  River.  —  Once  more  on  Roard  the  "Maryland."  —  Recol- 
lections of  President  Arthur.  —  At  the  White  House.  —  Washinjrton 
Society.  —  An  Apt  Shakespearian  Quotation. — Distinguished  People. — 
"Hamlet."  —  A  Council  of  War.  —  Making  Out  the  Route  of  a  New 
Tour.  —  A  Week  in  New  England  Cities.  —  Brooklyn  and  Philadelphia 
Revisited. 

I. 

We  left  Boston  at  about  two  o'clock  in  the  mornin^j 
of  the  3d  of  March,  and  after  breakfast,  at  half-past 
ten,  some  of  iis  turn  out  to  stretch  our  legs  on  the  rail- 
road track  by  the  side  of  the  Harlem  river.  Once  more 
we  are  shunted  on  board  the  "  Maryland,"  tliat  is  to 
convey  us  "  down  stream,  to  connect  with  the  Pennsyl- 
vania road."  At  about  eleven  o'clock  we  are  afloat. 
Presently  we  pass  Blackwell's  Island.  The  pretty  villas 
on  the  opposite  bank  are  in  notable  contrast  with  the 
hard,  prosaic  buildings  of  the  island.  Tlie  morning  is 
grey  and  cold.  The  snow  is  falling  lightly  and  is  full 
of  crystals.  Most  of  the  company  are  on  deck,  which 
stretches  right  over  the  snow-covered  cars.  Some  are 
promenading  and  enjoying  the  change  from  railway  to 
river  travel.  Others  are  breakfasting  in  the  steamer's 
spacious  saloon.  Howe  and  his  wife  ;  Terriss  (his  hand 
in  a  sling)  ;  Tyars  (in  his  long  Scotch  ulster,  which 
was  evidently  new  to  the  gamins  of  Philadelphia,  where 


400 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


they  said,  as  lie  passed,  "Here's  a  dude  I  ")  ;  ^Irs. 
Pauncefort,  and  others,  are  defying  the  sharp  weather 
at  the  bows  of  the  vessel,  which,  with  its  freight,  is  a 
continual  surprise  to  them.  Miss  Millward,  the  pictu- 
resque Jessica  of  "  The  Merchant,"  is  romping  merrily 
with  the  children  of  the  company,  who  arc  quite  a 
feature  in  the  garden  and  church  scenes  of  "Much  Ado." 
We  steal  quietly  along  the  river  without  noise, 
but  with  a  steady  progression.  Blackwell's  Island 
prisons  are  enlivened  in  color  by  a  little  company  of 
women,  who  are  being  marched  into  the  peniten- 
tiary. They  turn  to  look  at  the  "  Maryland  "  as  they 
enter  the  stony  portals.  As  we  creep  along,  villas  on 
our  left  give  place  to  lumber-yards,  with  coasting- 
vessels  lying  alongside.  Leaving  Black  well's  on  the 
right,  the  shore  breaks  up  into  picturesque  wharfage, 
backed,  in  the  distance,  by  the  first  of  the  steeples  of 
Fifth  avenue.  The  eye  follows  them  along ;  wharves 
and  river-craft  in  front ;  the  spires  against  the  grey  sky, 
until  they  are  repeated,  as  it  were,  by  forests  of  masts, 
—  first  a  few,  and  then  a  cluster.  We  meet  another 
train  coming  up  the  river,  then  another ;  and  now  we 
get  glimpses,  through  the  haze,  of  distant  ferry-boats 
ahead.  There  is  a  dull  mist  on  the  river,  and  here  and 
there  it  hangs  about  in  clouds.  We  pass  Long  Island 
railroad  pier.  It  is  very  cold  ;  but  the  children  of  the 
company  still  trot  about,  ruddy  and  merry, 
'  "  You  don't  say  so  I  "  exclaims  somebody.  "  Is  it  true, 
the  train  we  saw  at  Harlem,  which  we  thought  full  of 
poor  emigrants,  was  the  Opera  Company  on  their  way 
to  Boston,  —  the  chorus  ?  " 


WASHINOTON,  ETC. 


401 


I  true, 

ill  of 

way 


"Quite  true." 

"Then  I  can  now  understand,"  is  the  rejoinder, 
"that  the  passengers  on  board  tlic  'Rome,'  when  wo 
came  out,  thought  us  a  most  respectable  crowd." 

"That  has  been  remarked  before,"  says  tlic  buxom 
jNIartlia  of  "Louis  XI,"  "and  in  far  more  compli- 
mentary terms." 

Presently,  through  the  mist  on  the  larboard  side,  we 
catch  a  glimpse  of  tlic  Brooklyn  bridge.  A  few  gulls 
are  sweeping  down  the  river  before  us.  On  both 
banks  there  arc  wharves  and  ships.  One  of  the 
vessels  flies  the  British  flag,  wliich  is  greeted  with 
a  cheer  from  some  of  our  people.  On  the  left 
bank  of  the  river  is  a  great  sugar  factory,  with  a 
picturesque  red  brick  tower.  Wc  have  now  left  the 
Harlem  river,  and  for  some  little  time  have  been  steam- 
ing down  the  East  towards  the  North  river,  with  Bed- 
loe's  island  —  a  dot  in  the  distant  Sound  —  and  Sandy 
Hook  somewhere  in  the  mist  beyond.  Wc  now  pass 
Hunter's  Point,  and  slue  gradually  round  towards 
the  North  river.  We  glide  along  beneath  the  won- 
derful bridge,  and  look  up  among  its  net-work  of 
roads  and  rails;  past  Piers  50  and  51  on  our  right, 
with  freight-cars  and  steamers  ready  for  the  river ;  past 
the  New  York,  New  Haven,  and  Hartford  Railway 
quays,  hugging  the  South-street  docks  and  ship-repair- 
ing yards.  Governor's  Island  at  our  bow.  Ships  and 
steamers  stretch  along  to  Battery  Point,  which  we  round 
into  the  North  river,  and  pass  Castle  Garden.  It  is 
here  that  we  catch  sifrht  of  Bedloe's  and  other  distant 
islands,  and  look  far  in  the  direction  of  Sandy  Hook, 


402 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


whence  fierce  tug-boats  are  steaming  along,  with  great 
barges  in  tow.  Now  we  cross  the  river  to  Jersey  City. 
It  is  two  o'clock.  Our  cars  are  once  more  on  the  rails, 
and,   at  about  nine  o'clock  that  night,  we  ran  into 


Washington. 


n. 

"You  know  the  President,'*  said  Irving,  while  w 
werj  travellino^  from  Boston  to  Washinf^ton. 

"  Yes ;  I  met  him  once  or  twice  during  the  contest 
when  he  was  ultimately  returned  as  Vice-President 
with  General  Garfield.  His  likeness  had  become  very 
familiar  to  me  before  I  saw  him.  Candidates  for  the 
high  offices  of  state  are  not  only  photographed,  but 
their  pictures  are  painted  in  heroic  proportions.  You 
see  them  everywhere,  — on  flags  and  banners,  in  shop- 
windows,  in  the  newspapers.  But  you  will  be  in  the 
thick  of  It  next  autumn,  since  you  have  really  decided 
to  return  this  year." 

*'0h,  yes  I  —  but  tell  me  about  your  meeting  with 
the  President, — what  is  he  like?" 

"  '.fall  and  handsome ;  frank  and  genial  in  manner ; 
an  excellent  conversationalist ;  well  read,  —  a  gen- 
tleman. I  became  acquainted  with  him  on  the  eve 
of  his  election  to  the  vice-presidential  chair.  At  his 
installation  hundreds  of  his  personal  friends  and  ad- 
mirers from  eastern  and  western  cities  made  '  high  fes- 
tival,' in  his  honor  at  Washington.  Two  years  later 
I  saw  him,  with  sorrowful  face  and  head  bowed  down, 
start  for  the  capital,  to  stand  by  the  bedside  of  the  dying 
President,  with   whom   he   had  been   elected-     Soon 


WASHINGTON,   ETC. 


403 


vith 

iner ; 
gen- 
eve 
.t  his 
ad- 
fes- 
1  later 
lown, 
lyino- 


afterwards  the  friends,  who  had  metaphorically  flung 
up  their  caps  for  him  on  the  merry  day  of  his  installa- 
tion with  Garfield,  went,  *  with  solemn  tread  and  slow,' 
to  assist  at  his  inauguration  into  the  chair  which,  for 
a  second  time,  the  hand  of  the  assassin  had  rendered 
vacant.     i^Iy  recollection   of  Mr.   Arthur  pictured  a 
stout,   ruddy-complexioned  man,   with  dark  liair  and 
whiskers,  and  a  certain  elasticity  in  his  gait  that  beto- 
kened strong  physical  health.     I  remember  that  we  sat 
together   hj   the    tafFrail   of    a   Sound   steamer,    and 
talked  of  the  vicissitudes  of  life  and  its  uncertainties, 
and  that  I  was  deeply  moved  with  sympathy  for  him  in 
regard   tc  the   death   of  his   most   accoraDlished  and 
amiable  wife,  of  whom  he  spoke  {apropos  of  some 
remark  that  led  up  to  his  bereavement)  with  a  quiver- 
ing lip  and  a  moistened  eye.     The  day  had  been  a 
very  pleasant  one  ;  the  bay  of  New  York  was  sleeping 
in  tlie  sun  ;  the  air  was  balmy  ;  the  time  gracious  in  all 
respects  ;  but,  while  doing  his  best  to  enliven  the  pass- 
ing hour,  Arthur's  thoughts  had  wandered  to  the  grave 
of  his  wife.     She  was  a  very  accomplished  woman,  I 
am  told  ;  musical,  a  sweet  disposition,  refined  and  cul- 
tivated in  her  tastes.     Friends  of  mine  who  knew  her 
say  that  she,  above  all  others,  would  havi  rejoiced  in 
her  husband's  victory  ;  and,  while  inspiring  him  with 
fortitude   under  the  calamity  that  lay  beyond,  would 
have  lent  a  grace  to  liis  reign  at  the  White  House  that 
alone  was  necessary  to  complete  the  simple  dignity  of 
his  administration,  social   and   otherwise,  which  will 
always  be  remembered  at  Washino^ton   in  connection 
with  the  presidentship  of  Chester  A.  Arthur." 


404  IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 

"  I  have  letters  to  the  President,  which  I  shall  cer- 
tainly take  the  first  opportunity  to  deliver,"  said  Irving. 

When  I  met  Mr.  Arthur  again  in  his  own  room, 
at  the  Executive  Mansion,  I  was  struck  with  the 
change  which  the  anxieties  and  responsibilities  of 
office,  entered  upon  under  circumstances  of  the  most 
painful  character,  had  wrought  upon  him.  His 
face  was  careworn ;  his  hair  white ;  his  manner  sub- 
dued. He  stooped  in  his  gait ;  the  old  brightness 
had  gone  out  of  his  eyes,  and  there  was  what  seemed 
to  be  a  permanently  saddened  expression  about  the 
corners  of  his  mouth.  He  did  not  look  sick ;  there 
was  nothinn:  in  his  face  or  fijjure  dcnotini;  ill-health  or 
physical  weakness  ;  but  in  the  course  of  four  years  he 
appeared  to  me  to  have  aged  twenty.  I  had  not  been 
in  Washington  a  day  before  he  sent  for  me  and  my 
family,  with  a  pleasant  reference  to  the  time  when  last 
we  met.  Looking  back  over  these  four  years,  and  con- 
sidering its  record  of  trouble  and  anxiety,  I  could  wcil 
have  forgiven  him  if  he  had  forgotten  my  very  exist- 
ence. That  he  recalled  the  occasion  of  our  meeting, 
and  was  still  touched  witli  the  spirit  of  it,  I  mention  to 
do  him  honor,  not  myself;  though,  had  it  pleased  Provi- 
dence not  to  have  afflicted  me  with  a  never-ending  sor- 
row, I  could  have  felt  a  high  sense  of  personal  pride  in 
the  home-like  reception  which  the  President  of  the  United 
States  gave  to  me  and  my  family,  in  his  own  room  at 
the  Executive  Mansion,  sitting  down  with  us  and  chat- 
ting in  a  pleasant,  unconstrained,  familiar  way,  that 
is  characteristic  of  American  manners,  and  eminently 
becomes  the  cliief  of  a  great  republic. 


WASHINGTON,  ETC. 


405 


Wcro  this  book  only  intended  for  English  readers  I 
would  hesitate  (even  with  the  friendly  approval  of  my 
collaborator)  about  publishing  these  few  sentences,  so 
personal  to  myself,  lest  it  should  be  thought  I  might 
be  "  airing  my  connections  "  ;  but  a  President  per  se  is 
not  held  in  such  profound  estimation  or  reverence  in 
America  as  in  England,  where  we  rank  him  with  the 
most  powerful  of  reigning  monarchs,  and  give  him  a 
royal  personality.  Moreover,  I  should  be  ungrateful 
did  I  not  take  the  best  possible  opportunity  to  acknowl- 
edge a  conspicuous  act  of  kindliness  and  grace  on  the 
part  of  one  who,  since  I  last  met  him,  had  stepped 
from  the  private  station  of  mere  citizenship  to  the  chief 
office  of  state  over  fifty  millions  of  people,  wielding 
an  individual  power  in  their  government  that  belongs 
to  no  constitutional  sovereign,  nor  to  any  prince  or 
minister  in  the  most  despotic  courts  or  cabinets  of 
Europe. 


m. 

"And  I  can  only  say,"  remarked  Irving,  as  we  left 
the  White  House  together,  after  his  first  interview 
with  the  President,  "that,  if  his  reelection  de- 
pended on  my  vote,  he  should  have  it.  I  know 
nothing  about  the  political  situation ;  but  the  man  we 
have  just  left  has  evidently  several  qualities  that  I 
should  say  fit  him  for  his  office,  —  foremost  among 
them  is  patience.  I  would  also  say  that  he  has  the 
virtue  of  self-denial,  and  he  is  certainly  not  impul- 
sive.    A  kind-hearted  man,  I  am  sure,  capable  of  the 


406 


IMPRESSIONS   OF  AMERICA. 


highest  sentiment  of  friendship,  of  a  gentle  disposi- 
tion, and  with  great  repose  of  cliaracter." 

"You  have  made  quite  a  study  of  him,"  I  said; 
"and  I  am  glad  you  like  him,  for  I  am  sure  he  likes 
you." 

They  had  had  a  long  chat  at  the  White  House.  Mr. 
CongTessman  Phelps  accompanied  Irving,  and  intro- 
duced him  to  the  Secretary  of  the  Navy,  and  to  other 
ministers  who  came  and  went  during  the  first  part  of 
the  informal  reception.  The  President  talked  of  plays 
and  general  literature ;  regretted  that  Washington, 
which  had  so  many  fine  buildings,  did  not  yet  possess 
a  theatre  worthy  of  the  city. 

"A  beautiful  city,  Mr.  President,"  said  Irving.  "I 
had  heard  much  of  Washington,  but  am  agreeably  sur- 
prised at  its  fine  buildings,  its  handsome  houses,  its 
splendid  proportions ;  and  the  plan  of  it  seems  to  be 
unique." 

"  The  orio-inal  desijjn  was  the  work  of  a  French  en- 
gineer,"  said  the  President,  "who  served  under  Wash- 
ington. His  idea,  evidently,  was  that  a  republic 
would  have  continually  to  contend  with  revolutions  at 
the  capital.  He,  therefore,  kept  in  view  the  military 
exigencies  of  tlie  government.  The  main  streets  of 
the  city  radiate  upon  a  centre  that  is  occupir'd  by  the 
legislative  and  executive  buildings,  like  the  spokes  of 
a  wheel,  so  tliat  they  could  be  dominated  by  artillery. 
This  was  the  French  idea  of  the  dangers  and  duties  of 
that  republican  form  of  government,  which  has  never 
been  contested  here,  nor  is  ever  likely  to  be.  While 
but  a  village  Washington  was  laid  out  for  a  great  city, 


WASniNOTON,  ETC. 


407 


and,  without  any  seeming  prospect  of  the  grand  idea 
being  realized,  the  original  lines  have,  nevertheless, 
always  been  adhered  to." 

"And  with  glorious  results,"  said  Irving.  "Wash- 
ington is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  cities  I  have  ever 
seen.  There  is  no  reason  why  the  highest  architectural 
ambition  should  not  be  realized  in  such  broad  avenues 
and  boulevards,  and  with  such  a  site." 


be 

cn- 
ash- 
iblic 
18  at 
Liary 
IS  of 

the 
[8  of 
[cry. 
es  of 
icvcr 

hilc 
I  city, 


IV. 

"  Many  Americans  underrate  the  beauty  of  Washing- 
ton," I  said.  "  Comparatively  few  of  them  have  seen 
it,  and  hundreds  who  criticise  it  have  not  been  south 
for  a  number  of  years.  The  growth  of  Washington  is 
not  only  modern,  it  is  of  yesterday.  The  city  was 
really  little  more  than  a  village  up  to  the  date  of  the 
late  war;  and  it  was  only  in  1871  that  the  impetus 
was  given  to  the  public  enterprise  that  has  covered  it 
with  palaces,  private  and  public.  It  is  the  only  city 
of  America  in  which  the  streets  are  kept  as  cleanly 
and  as  orderly  as  London  and  Paris.  The  streets  are 
asphalted,  and  you  may  drive  over  them  everj'where 
without  inconvenience  or  obstruction.  There  is  an 
individuality  about  the  houses  tliat  is  one  of  Washing- 
ton's most  notable  architeciural  characteristics." 

"Yes,"  said  Irving,  "that  is  a  great  point.  New 
York  is  lacking  in  that  respect,  the  reason  being,  I 
suppose,  its  want  of  spaee.  Some  of  the  houses  in 
Washington  suggest  Bedford  Park,  Fitzjohn's  avenue, 


408 


IMPItESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


and  the  street  of  artists'  houses  at  Kensington.  The 
same  may  be  said  of  portions  of  Chicago  and  Boston. 
The  so-called  Queen  Anne  order  of  architecture  is  very 
prevalent  in  Washington,  —  take  Pennsylvania  ave- 
nue, for  instance.  On  a  fine  summer's  day  it  must 
be  a  picture,  with  its  trees  in  leaf  and  its  gardens  in 
bloom." 

Irving  went  more  than  once  to  the  White  House, 
and  was  greatly  impressed  with  the  dignified  infor- 
mality of  one  of  its  evening  receptions. 

"No  ceremonious  pomp,  no  show,  and  yet  an  air  of 
conscious  power,"  he  said ;  "  the  house  might  be  the 
modest  country-seat  of  an  English  noble,  or  wealthy 
commoner,  the  President  the  host  receiving  his  inti- 
mate friends.  No  formal  announcements  ;  presentations 
made  just  as  if  we  were  in  a  quiet  country-house. 
Soon  after  supper,  when  the  ladies  took  their  leave,  and 
most  of  the  gentlemen  with  them,  I  and  one  or  two 
others  went  into  the  President's  room,  and  chatted,  I 
fear,  until  morning.  It  was  to  me  very  enjoyable. 
President  Arthur  would  shine  in  any  society.  He  has 
a  large  acquaintance  with  the  best  literature,  dramatic 
and  general,  is  apt  at  quotation,  an  excellent  story- 
teller, a  gentleman,  and  a  good  fellow.  When  I  had 
said  good-night,  and  was  on  my  way  to  the  hotel,  I 
could  not  help  my  own  thoughts  wandering  back  to 
thoughts  of  Lincoln  and  Garfield,  whose  portraits  I 
had  noticed  in  prominent  positions  on  the  walls  of  the 
executive  mansion.  I  remember  Mr.  Noah  Brooks,  of 
New  York,  telling  us  the  story  of  Lincoln's  death,  and 
how  he  was  to  have  been  in  the  box  with  him  at  the 


WASHINGTON,  ETC. 


409 


r  of 

the 
ilthy 

inti- 
,tions 
puse. 

,  and 
two 

.1,1 

able. 

16  has 
iiatic 

[tory- 
had 
cl,  I 
k  to 
its  I 
f  the 
8,  of 
,  and 
,t  the 


theatre  that  same  night,  and  how  vividly  he  recounted 
the  chief  incidents  of  the  tragedy.  And  Garfield,  — 
I  can  quite  understand  that  terrible  business  making  his 
successor  prematurely  old,  called  as  he  was  into  office 
under  such  painful  circumstances,  and  with  so  great  a 
responsibility.  A  distinguished  American  was  telling 
me  yesterday  that  only  the  wisest  discretion  and  per- 
sonal self-denial  in  regard  to  the  filling  of  offices  saved 
America  from  the  possibilities  of  riot  and  bloodshed. 
Ho  said  Artliur's  singularly  quiet  administration  of 
affiiirs  —  the  one  necessity  of  the  time  —  would  be 
taken  into  account  at  the  polls,  if  he  is  nominated  for 
reelection." 


V. 

Washington  society  made  itself  most  agreeable  to 
both  Irving  and  Miss  Terry,  though  "  Portia,  on  a 
trip  from  the  Venetian  seas,"  to  quote  the  New  York 
reporter,  made  her  visit  to  the  capital  an  opportunity 
for  rest.  Electing  this  city  for  a  holiday,  being 
relieved  of  a  week's  journey  through  New  England, 
she  remained  at  the  capital  on  a  visit  to  her  friend, 
Miss  Olive  Seward,  the  adopted  daughter  of  the  famous 
minister  of  Lincoln's  administration. 

Among  the  social  entertainments  given  in  Irving'a 
honor  were  two  notable  little  suppers,  —  one  at  the 
Metropolitan  Club,  by  Mr.  II.  L.  Nelson,  Secretary 
to  the  Speaker,  and  a  journalist  of  well-won  renown. 
There  were  present,  the  Speaker  (the  Hon.  John  G. 
Carlisle),  Senator  Bayard,  Representatives  Dorsheimer 


410 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


fi       ' 


ll       i 


11 


tl 


(ex. -Lieut.  Governor  of  the  State  of  Mew  York),  T. 
B.    Reed,    Dr.  George   B.  Loring  (Commissioner   of 
Agriculture),  and  Messrs.  John  Davis  (Assistant  Sec- 
retary of  State),  and  F.  E.  Leupp.     The  other  "even- 
ing  after   the   play "  was   spent   at   Mr.  Dorsheimer's 
house,  in  Connecticut  avenue,  where  the  guests  included 
several  distinguished  judges,  senators,  and  government 
officials        The   conversation   on   both   occasions   was 
chiefly  about  plays.     It  was  a  great  relief  from  law  and 
politics,  (me   of  the   learned  judges   said,  to   discuss 
Shakespeare  and  the  stage.     They  all  talked  well  upon 
the  drama  ;  some  of  them  had  known  Forrest ;  others,  the 
elder  Booth.     Irving  was  more  than  usually  talkative 
in  such  congenial  company.     He  related  many  reminis- 
cences of  the  English  stage,  none  of  which  interested 
his   Washington  friends  more  than  his  anecdotes  of 
Macready.       Several   instances  of  apt  Shakespearian 
quotations  were  given  ;  but  they  were  all  capped  by  a 
story  which  Nelson  told  of  Judge  Jeremiah  S.  Black, 
Mr.  Buchanan's   Attorney-General  and    Secretary  of 
State.     Judge  Black  was  holding  court  at  Chambers- 
burgh,  Pa.,  when  he  was  on  the  circuit  in  that  State, 
forty  years  or  more  ago.     His  manners  were  rough, 
but  more  from  absent-mindedness  than  any  other  cause, 
for  he  was  one  of  the  kindest  of  men.     He  would  almost 
invariably  find  the  strong  point  in  a  cause  that  was  on 
trial  before  him,  and  go  on  thinking  about  it  without 
reference  to  the  point  which  counsel  might  be  consider- 
ing ;  so  that  his  questions  often  seemed  impertinent  to 
the  bar.     One  of  the  lawyers  of  Chambersburgh  was  a 
man  of  the  name  of  Chambers,  a  soft-spoken,  mild- 


WASHINGTON,   ETC. 


411 


o 

ausc, 
Imost 
as  on 
ithout 
sider- 

nt  to 
was  a 

miW- 


mannered  kind  of  man.  Chambers  suflfercd  especially 
from  what  he  supposed  was  Black's  intentional  rudeness 
to  him,  and,  one  day,  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
his  burdens  were  intolerable  ;  tliercfore  he  stopped  in 
the  midst  of  his  argument,  and  expostulated  with  the 
judge,  telling  him  that  he  always  tried  to  treat  the  court 
deferentially,  but  the  judge  did  not  reciprocate.  The 
judge  sat  smiling  through  Chambers's  long  reproof,  and 
briefly  answered :  — 

"  Haply,  for  I  am  hlack, 
And  have  not  those  soft  parts  of  conversation 
That  chamherers  liave." 

During  the  week  Irving  visited  the  capitol,  and  was 
introduced  to  the  highest  officers  of  state.  lie  heard 
debates  in  both  houses,  visited  the  law  courts,  and  re- 
ceived many  kindly  attentions,  public  and  private. 
The  theatre  was  crowded  every  night.  On  the  first 
night  the  President  sat  in  the  stalls,  and  the  Russian 
ambassador  contented  himself  with  quite  a  back  seat. 
Mr,  Bancroft,  the  white-haired  historian,  was  a  con- 
stant attendant.  Mr.  Charles  NordhofF  (whose  graphic 
stories  are  not  sufficiently  well  known)  was  in  the 
stalls ;  so,  also,  were  the  authors  of  "  Democracy."  (It 
is  rumored  that  they  are  a  society  syndicate  ;  but  there 
is  more  authority  in  the  statement  that  they  are  two, 
and  I  could  give  their  names.  I  forbear,  for  tlic  sake 
of  the  American  lady  who  was  pointed  out  to  me  in 
London,  last  year,  as  the  undoubted  author  of  the 
"  scurrilous  burlesque  ") .  Mr.  Blaine  (one  of  the  most 
famous  and  learned  of  American  statesmen)  was  also 
present,  and  he  was  one  of  the  prominent  men  who 


412 


IMPIiESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


showed  Irving  much  social  attention.^  A  list  of  the 
distinguished  people  present,  would  include  a  majority 
of  the  great  personages  at  Washington  during  the 
season  of  1884.  All  the  plays  were  enthusiastically 
received.^ 


I: 


*  The  President  went  last  cveninjf  to  witness  the  final  pei'formance  of 
Mr.  Ilcniy  Irving  and  his  company  at  the  National  Theatre,  in  "Louis 
XI."  and  "  The  Belle's  Stratagem."  Mrs.  McEIroy  and  Miss  Nellie  Arthur 
were  with  him  in  the  box.  Subsequently  he  entertained  at  the  White 
House,  Mr.  Ii-vinj;,  the  members  of  the  President's  cabinet  and  the  ladies 
of  their  families ;  Mrs.  McElroy  and  Miss  McElroy,  the  sistei*  and  niece 
of  the  President ;  Colonel  and  Mi's.  Bonaparte ;  General  and  Mrs.  P.  11. 
Sheridan,  United  States  Army;  General  E.  F.  Bealc;  Mr.  and  Mi's.  Mar- 
cellus  Bailey ;  Mr.  Walker  Blaine ;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  N.  L.  Andei'son ;  Lieut. 
T.  B.  M.  Mason,  Un»;cd  States  Navy,  and  Mrs.  Mason ;  Commissioner  of 
Agriculture  Gcor;:^G  li.  Loving,  Mrs.  and  Miss  Loring ;  Assistant  Attorney- 
General  William  A.  Maury,  Mrs.  and  Miss  Mauiy;  Assistant  Secretary  of 
State  John  Davis  and  Mrs.  Davis ;  John  P.  Jones,  United  States  Senate, 
and  Mrs.  Jones,  Nevada ;  Senator  M.  C.  Butler,  South  Carolina ;  Senator 
Aldrich,  Rhode  Island ;  !^J^•.  and  Mrs.  II.  S.  Sanford ;  Mr.  John  Field ; 
Mr.  F.  J.  Phillips,  secretary  to  the  President;  Senator  and  Mrs.  John  F. 
Miller,  California;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Theodore  Lyman,  of  Massachusetts, 
House  of  Representatives ;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  Walter  Phelps.  New  Jer- 
sey, House  of  Representatives ;  Mr.  Clayton  McMichacl,  United  States  Mar- 
shal, and  Mrs.  McMichacl ;  Mr.  aud  Mrs.  Charles  Nordhoff,  "  New  York 
Herald";  Mr.  Stillson  llutchings,  "Washington  Post";  Mr.  Albert 
Pulitzer,  "  New  York  Journal " ;  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Isaac  Bell,  of  New  York ; 
Mr.  and  jSIx's.  Joseph  Ilatton,  of  England.  — No  actor  was  ever  so  enter- 
tained in  Washington  as  Mr.  In'ing  has  been.  He  attended  a  supper  at 
the  Metropolitan  Club  on  Wcdncselay  evening ;  a  breakfast  given  by  Mr. 
Bayard  on  Thursday ;  gave  a  supper  to  Mr.  Blaine  and  a  party  of  friends 
on  Thursday  evening,  after  the  play ;  was  the  guest  of  Mr.  William  Walter 
Phelps  on  Friday  morning;  attended  a  supper  given  to  him  by  Mr. 
Dorsheimer  on  Friday  evening ;  and  last  night  was  the  President's  guest, 
as  stated.  Miss  Terry  has  received  more  social  attentions  here  than  in 
any  other  American  city. —  The  Capital,  March  9. 

*  We  thoroughly  believe  that  the  time  will  never  come  when  any  actor 
can  present  a  Hamlet  that  will  be  universally  regarded  as  a  coiTect  inter- 
pretation of  the  master  poet's  sublime  creation.  Mr.  Ii-ving's  impereona- 
tion  was  brilliantly  bold  in  execution,  replete  with  new  readings  and 
stage  business,  and  magnificentbursts  of  feeling,  arising  from  his  changea- 


WAaniNOTON,  ETC. 


413 


actor 
later- 
)na- 
and 

igea- 


Called  on,  as  usual,  to  speak  when  the  curtain  had 
gone  down  for  the  last  time  (after  three  recalls),  Irving 
thanked  the  audience  for  the  kind  reception  and  liberal 
patronage  which  had  been  accorded  himself  and  his 
company.  They  had  during  the  past  few  months 
appeared  in  all  the  leading  cities  of  the  country,  and 
he  felt  that  this  cordial  welcome  in  the  beautiful  capital 
of  the  Union  might  fairly  be  regarded  as  the  crowning 
engagement  of  a  most  happy  and  prosperous  tour.  He 
returned  heartfelt  thanks,  not  alone  for  himself,  but  for 
his  company ;  and  especially  for  his  fair  comrade  and 
friend,  Miss  Ellen  Terry,  of  whom  he  felt  he  could 
heartily  say :  "  She  came,  she  saw,  she  conquered." 
He  said  farewell  with  the  greater  ease  in  the  expec- 
tation of  having  the  privilege  of  again  appearing  in 
Washington  early  in  the  coming  season.  Again  return- 
ing thanks,  and  saying  good-by,  Mr.  Irving  bowed 
himself  off  the  stage  amid  very  demonstrative  applause, 

blcness  of  moods.  There  docs  not  seem  to  be  a  scene  in  the  entire  timgedy 
which  he  has  not  touched  with  his  own  subtle  and  delicate  refinement,  and 
removed  far  above  the  conventionalities  of  other  actors  whom  we  have 
seen.  His  first  soliloquy,  "  Oh,  that  this  too,  too  solid  flesh  would  melt!  " 
was  rendered  as  thoujrh  it  were  the  unconscious  utterance  of  a  thought. 
He  displayed  but  little  interest  in  the  return  to  earth  of  his  father's  spirit 
until  he  met  it  face  to  face  ;  and  then  he  surrounded  himself  with  a  solemn 
supernaturalism,  tinged  with  glow  of  superb  filial  alTection.  This,  in  turn, 
seemed  to  give  way  to  a  sort  of  nervous  terror,  and  he  became  hysterical, 
which  presented  to  the  oath  of  secrecy  an  added  reverential  awe.  The 
first  long  interview  between  Hamlet  and  Ophelia  was  played  with  splendid 
dramatic  force  and  fire.  His  simulation  of  passion,  his  deep  longing  for 
its  gratification,  and  his  recklessness  consequent  upon  his  recollection  of 
the  stern  duty  to  which  he  had  devoted  himself,  —  alternately  flying  from 
her,  and  then  returning,  —  was  a  part  of  the  performance  which  created  a 
most  profound  impression  upon  our  mind. —  The  National  Hepublican, 
March  6. 


414 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


VI. 

It  was  quite  like  a  council  of  war  to  sec  Irving, 
Loveday,  Falser,  and  Stoker,  bending  over  a  map  of 
the  United  States,  during  the  journey  from  AVasliington 
to  New  York,  rn  route  for  several  New  England  cities. 
The  chart  was  scanned  with  careful  interest,  Irving 
passing  his  finger  over  it  here  and  there,  not  with  the 
intensity  of  the  overthrown  monarch  in  "Charles  the 
First,"  but  with  a  close  scrutiny  of  routes.  The  chief 
was  sketching  out  his  next  tour  in  America. 

"No  more  long  journeys,"  he  said. 

"They  are  not  necessary,"  Loveday  replied. 

"No  jumping  from  Brooklyn  to  Chicago,  and  from 
Chicago  to  Boston.  This  sort  of  thing  may  have  been 
necessary  by  our  relinquishment  of  the  one-night 
places  set  down  for  us  in  the  original  plan  of  the  tour ; 
but  we'll  reform  that  altogether." 

Then  all  the  heads  went  down  upon  the  chart ;  and 
pencil-marks  begin  to  appear,  dotting  out  a  route  which 
began  at  Quebec,  and  traversed,  by  easy  stages,  Canada 
and  the  United  States,  —  from  Quebec  to  Toronto,  from 
Toronto  to  New  York,  and  thence  to  Chicago,  and,  by 
easy  calls,  back  again  to  the  Empire  city. 

An  hour  or  two  later  and  the  route  was  settled, 
Falser  remarking,  "  It  is  the  most  complete  and.  easiest 
tour  that  has  ever  been  mapped  out." 

"  And  we  will  begin  it  in  the  autumn  of  this  year. 
We  have  sowed  the  seed ;  we  are  entitled  to  reap  the 
harvest.  All  my  American  friends  say  so ;  and  the 
great  American  play-going  public  would  like  me  to  dc 


WA8EIN0T0N,  ETC. 


415 


fed, 

liest 

iar. 
I  the 
the 
dc 


80.  I  am  sure  of  it.  My  pulses  quickened  at  the 
great  cheer  that  went  up  at  Boston  when  I  said  I 
hoped  to  come  back  this  year.  Let  us  consider  it 
settled.     We  will  come  in  September." 

The  map  was  folded  up,  and  the  work  of  organizing 
the  next  tour  was  at  once  commenced.  Telegraphic 
"feelers,"  in  regard  to  "dates,"  had  already  been  sent 
to  the  leading  theatres.  The  best  of  them  were  ready 
to  accent  for  the  time  proposed ;  and  a  week  or  so 
later   tl.3   business   was   settled. 

IMeanwhile  we  arrived  at  New  York  (the  trees  in 
Washington  and  Union  squares,  and  Fifth  avenue  were 
crystal  trees  ;  every  house  was  coated  with  ice  that 
sparkled  under  the  electric  lamps) ,  and  the  next  day 
"Louis  XL"  was  given  at  New  Haven.  The  week  was 
spent  between  this  picturesque  city  and  Worcester, 
Springfield,  Hartford,  and  Providence.  Only  "  Louis 
XL"  and  "The  Bells"  were  played,  Miss  Terry  taking 
a  week's  rest  at  Washington.  The  New  England 
audiences  were  as  cordial  at  these  cities  as  they  had 
been  at  Boston ;  the  critics  interpreted  tlieir  senti- 
ments. At  Hartford,  Mark  Twain  (S.  L.  Clemens) 
entertained  Irving  under  his  hospitable  roof,  and  at 
Springfield  there  was  a  memorable  gathering  at  the 
Springfield  Club, — in  fact,  Irving  was  welcomed  every- 
where with  tokens  of  respect  and  esteem.  One  regrets 
that  these  pages  and  the  time  of  the  patient  reader  are 
not  suflSciently  elastic  to  allow  of  one  devoting  a  vol- 
ume to  the  New  England  cities,  so  interesting  as  they 
are,  historically  and  otherwise,  from  American  as  well 
as  English  points  of  view. 


416 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


VII. 


Following  the  New  England  cities  come  the  last  of 
the  return  visits,  —  Philadelphia,  Brooklyn,^  New  York. 
They  reindorsed  the  previous  successes,  and  fully  justi- 
fied the  decision  of  a  second  visit  next  season. 


1  Mr.  Henry  Irving  and  Miss  Teny  were  tcudercil  a  reception  by  the 
Hamilton  Club  yesterday  afternoon.  The  quaint  old  mansion  on  Clinton 
street  was  filled  between  the  hours  of  three  and  five.  The  reception,  which 
was  informal,  was  held  in  the  library  on  the  second  floor,  an  inviting 
apartment  papered  in  old  gold,  with  a  frieze  of  olive-green  with  conven- 
tionalized flowers.  The  walls  are  lined  with  mahogany  bookcases  filled 
with  well-bound  books,  largely  historical.  An  oil  painting  of  Alexander 
Hamilton,  in  an  old-fashioned  frame,  hangs  on  the  west  hall,  whei'c  it  is 
lighted  by  the  flickering  gleams  of  the  wood-ficc  in  a  tiled  fireplace  opposite. 
An  antique  chandelier,  with  imitation  candles,  completes  the  cfTcct. 

At  half-past  three  Mr.  Irving  and  Miss  Terry  were  found  in  opposite 
corners  of  the  room,  each  surrounded  l)y  an  animated  group.  Miss  Terry, 
over  whom  some  of  the  younger  ladies  were  mad  with  curiosity,  was  com- 
pletely hemmed  in,  and  was  given  no  opportunity  to  move  about,  as  Irving 
did.  She  sat  during  intervals  in  an  old  arm-chair,  covered  with  red  plush. 
She  wore  an  artistic  gown,  with  a  Watteau  plait.  Her  fair  hair  curled  from 
beneath  a  round  French  hat,  covered  with  brown  velvet,  and  with  a  dark 
feather.  At  her  neck  was  an  eccentric  scarf  of  orange-colored  satin.  Prior 
to  the  reception  Mr.  Irving  and  Miss  Teny  lunched  with  Mr.  Samuel  Mc- 
Lean, President  of  the  club,  at  his  residence,  47  Pierrepoint  street ;  among 
his  fourteen  guests  being  Mrs.  Buckstone  (his  sister),  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Henry 
Ward  Beecher,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Foord.  Those  present  at  the  club 
reception  included  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bryan  II.  Smith,  Mrs.  George  Prentiss, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Crowell  Iladdcn,  Mrs.  S.  C.  Lynes,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Chas.  Ide, 
Mr.  and  Mre.  S.  B.  Chittenden,  Captain  McKcnzie,  Alex.  Forman,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Thomas  Turner,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Alex.  Cameron,  Mrs.  F.  P.  Bellamy, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  William  C.  De  Witt,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Joseph  Yeoman,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Charles  A.  llobbius,  Mrs.  llattie  Otis,  Amos  llobbins,  A.  F.  Good- 
now,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  T.  Howard,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Henry  Sheldon,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Charles  Phelps,  Mrs.  Washington  A.  Roebling,  Mrs.  Packer,  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  J.  S.  T.  Stranahan,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Josiah  Low,  John  Winslow, 
Mrs.  P.  Lynch,  ^Mrs.  Callendcr,  Adrian  Van  Sinderen,  John  N.  Peet,  Mr. 
Bram  Stoker  and  Mr.  II.  J.  Loveday  (of  Mr.  Iri^ing'a  company),  Mrs. 
Joseph  Hatton  and  Miss  Helen  II.  Hatton  (of  London),  Miss  Abbie  O. 
Nichols,  Mrs.  John  A.  Buckingham,  Mrs.  Birch,  Air.  and  ISIrg.  N.  \V.  C. 


WASniNOTON,  ETC. 


417 


plush. 
A  from 
a  dark 
,  Prior 
cl  ^Ic- 
laraong 
Henry 
.10  club 
cntiss, 
[in.  It-le, 
ir.  and 
llamy, 
Ir.  and 
Good- 
n,  Mr. 
cr,  Mr. 
inslow, 
ct,  Mr. 
Mrs. 
ibie  O. 
W.C. 


One  of  the  most  interesting  incidents  of  the  second 
visit  to  Philadelphia  was  Irving's  entertainment  in 
the  new  rooms  of  the  "  Clover  Club."  ^  Accustomed  to 
play  the  host,  the  club  found  itself  in  a  novel  position 

Hatch,  INfr.  and  Mrs.  Gordon  L.  Ford,  the  Rev.  Dr.  llutton,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Geo.  W.  ]Moad  and  daughter,  M'.  and  Mrs.  McKcan,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  F.  \V. 
Morse,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Robert  II.  Turle,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  ^Mackie,  Charles  Bill, 
Mrs.  Ropes,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  John  Foord,  Mr.  Samuel  McLean,  and  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Rodman.  —  Brooklyn  Times,  and  Brooklyn  Union,  March  30. 

1  When  Henry  Irving  was  here,  in  December  last,  the  "Clover  Club  '' 
tendered  him  a  breakfast,  and  at  that  time  he  stated  that  when  he  returned  to 
the  city  he  hoped  again  to  meet  his  genial  hosts.  Last  night  he  kept  his 
promise.  Upwards  of  sixty  gentlemen,  members  of  the  club,  and  friends 
whom  he  had  met  elsewhere,  were  invited  to  take  supper  with  him  at  the 
Eellevue,  after  the  performance  at  the  Chestnut-street  Opera  House,  and 
the  occasion  was  a  most  delightful  one.  The  celebrated  table  of  the  club,  in 
the  shape  of  a  four- leaved  clover,  was  spread  in  the  banqueting-hall.  On  it 
were  two  lofty  forms  of  flowers,  in  the  mid&t  of  which  rose  two  fountains, 
throwing  up  ciystal  streams  of  water,  which  fell  in  spray  over  the  blossoms. 
There  were  also  several  little  plots  of  growing  clover,  shaped  in  the  form  of 
the  quadrifoliate.  The  company  did  not  assemble  until  after  the  per- 
Ibrmanco  of  "  Much  Ado  About  Nothing."  It  was  11.30  when  they  were 
seated  at  the  table,  with  Mr.  Ii-ving  at  the  head.  Among  the  many 
present  were  Ex-Gov.  Iloyt,  Dion  Boucicault,  Attorney-General  Cassidy, 
Col.  A.  Loudon  Snowden,  A.  K.  McClure,  M.  P.  Handy,  J.  H.  Hevcrin, 
Mr.  Joseph  Hatton  and  Mr.  Montague  Marks,  from  New  York.  The 
occasion  was  one  long  to  be  remembered.  Mr.  Irving,  in  proposing 
the  toast  of  the  "Clover  Club,"  thanked  the  mcmbera  for  their  hos- 
pitality, and  Philadelphia  for  its  welcome  of  him,  and,  with  charac- 
teristic modesty,  spoke  of  his  tour  through  the  country,  the  welcome 
which  he  had  everywhere  received,  anil  the  love  of  dramatic  art  which 
he  found  among  the  people.  Mr.  Handy  replied  for  the  '*  Clover  Club," 
with  his  customary  felicitous  eloquence,  and  concluded  by  informing 
Mr.  IiTing  of  his  election  as  an  honorary  member  of  the  club.  While 
Mr.  Irving  was  bowing  his  thanks  Mr.  Handy  decorated  him  with  the 
jewelled  badge  of  membership.  Dion  Boucicault  told  how  Mr.  Irving,  to 
his  mind,  had  banished  the  pedestal  actor  from  the  stage,  and  presenteil 
Shakespeare  as  the  dramatist  himself  would  have  wished  to  see  his  works 
given.  Mr.  A.  K.  McClure  pointed  out  how  the  dramatic  art  had  knit  the 
Anglo-Saxon  race  in  a  close  bond  of  union.  Mr.  Ilowe,  the  "  old  man  "  of 
Mr.  Irving's  company,  gave  some  interesting  reminiscences  of  how  he,  aa  a 
Quaker  boy,  and  dressed  in  a  Quaker  garb,  applied  to  Edmund  Keau  to  bo 


418 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


when  it  accepted  that  of  guest.  The  occasion  was  one 
not  likely  to  be  forgotten  in  the  annals  of  an  institution 
which  interprets  the  best  and  highest  social  instincts 
of  an  eminently  hospitable  city.  The  club-room  was 
decorated  with  its  characteristic  taste. 

Mr.  Dion  Boucicault,  in  a  brief  address,  spoke  of  the 
beneficent  change  which  Irving  had  wrought  in  the 
methods  of  the  English  stage  ;  Mr.  McClure,  the  popu- 
lar and  powerful  director  of  the  "Times,"  thanked  him, 
in  the  name  of  all  lovers  of  art,  for  extending  that  ref 
ormation  to  the  American  stage  ;  Col.  Snowdcn  depicted 
his  high  place  in  the  history  of  the  best  civilization  of 
America ;  and  Irving,  while  accepting  with  pride  the 
honors  which  had  been  conferred  upon  him,  defended 
the  great  actors  of  America's  past  and  present  from 
the  criticism  of  several  speakers,  who  complained  of 
their  adherence  to  what  Boucicault  called  "  the  pedestal 
style  "  of  acting  Shakespeare.  Irving  described  to  them 
how,  in  years  gone  by,  both  England  and  America  had 
possessed  provincial  schools  of  acting,  in  the  stock  com- 
panies that  had  flourished  in  such  cities  as  Boston, 
New  York,  Philadelphia,  Chicago,  and  other  cities  on 
one  side  of  the  Atlantic,  and  Bristol,  Bath,  Manches- 
ter, Birmingham  on  the  other ;  how  these  had  been 
broken  up  by  "  combinations  "  in  travelling  companies  ; 


allowed  to  go  on  the  stage.  Mr.  Terriss,  the  leading  man,  gave  a  recita- 
tion. Dr.  Bedloe  offered  a  new  version  of  Shakespeare's  "  Seven  Ages," 
and  before  the  close  Miss  Terry  was  toasted  in  a  bumper  of  three  times 
three.  Seldom  has  such  a  merry  parly  sat  down  to  supper,  and  the  even- 
ing, when  it  is  brought  to  mind,  will  never  call  up  any  but  the  most  delight- 
ful recollections.  —  The  Day,  Baltimore,  and  The  Call,  Philadelphia, 
March  20,  1S84. 


WASHINGTON,  ETC. 


419 


)n, 
on 

;en 


les 


Icita- 

?e9," 
lines 
Iven- 
|ijrht- 
ohia, 


and  how  the  leading  actors  of  America  had  thus  been  dis- 
abled from  presenting  the  dramas  of  the  great  masters  in 
a  manner  they  would,  no  doubt,  have  desired  to  present 
them.  He  said  he  had  found  similar  difficulties  in  his 
own  country ;  but,  actuated  by  the  resolute  purpose  of  a 
sense  of  duty  to  his  art,  and  a  devoted  love  for  it,  he 
had  overcome  them.  For  some  eight  or  ten  years  ho 
had  worked  with  a  company,  trained  with  the  object  of 
interpreting,  to  the  best  of  their  ability,  the  work  of 
the  dramatist.  They  subordinated  themselves  to  the 
objects  and  intentions  of  the  play  they  had  to  illustrate, 
and  only  by  such  self-abnegations  to  the  harmony  of 
the  entile  play,  he  said,  could  anything  like  an  ap- 
proach be  made  to  the  realization  of  a  dramatic  theme. 
He  disclaimed  any  such  ambition  as  to  be  ranked  fore- 
most among  the  great  actors  whose  names  had  been 
mentioned ;  but  he  confessed  to  a  feeling  of  intense 
satisfaction  that  America  should  have  accepted  with  a 
generous,  and  he  must  say  a  remarkable,  spontaneity, 
the  methods  which  he  had  inaugurated  at  the  Lyceum 
Theatre. 

Among  other  "sight-seeing"  and  calls  which  we 
made  together  in  Philadelphia  was  a  visit  to  Mr. 
Childs,  at  the  "Ledger"  office,  and  an  hour  or  two 
spent  at  Independence  Hall.  Irving  was  much  inter- 
ested in  the  new  private  office  of  Mr.  Childs.  Deco- 
rated in  the  so-called  style  of  Queen  Anne,  it  is  a 
fine  example  of  the  progress  in  art  which  America  has 
made  within  the  past  few  years.  "It  contains  many 
precious  reminiscences  of  the  Centennial  Exhibition. 


420 


IMPIIE8SI0N8   OF  AMERICA. 


A  screen  in  front  of  the  street  windows  is  not  tho 
least  artistic  feature  of  the  apartment.  It  is  formed 
by  six  square  pillars,  with  arched  openings,  which, 
save  the  centre,  are  closed  to  the  height  of  three 
feet  from  the  floor,  the  space  between  the  back  of 
these  and  the  windows  forming  a  kind  of  recess,  where 
have  been  gathered  some  very  valuable  specimens  of 
plastic  and  mechanical  art.  Over  the  screen,  or  ar- 
cade, are  ten  painted  glass  panels ;  the  centre  one  con- 
tains the  portraits  of  Gutenberg,  Faust,  and  SchcefFer, 
inventors  of  the  art  of  printing  with  type ;  the  other 
four  contain  figures  representing  the  art  of  book- 
making.  The  left-hand  panel  contains  a  sitting  figure, 
intently  engaged  on  an  article  for  the  press,  which, 
with  two  figures,  a  man  and  a  boy,  the  latter  of  singu- 
larly fine  action,  forms  the  second  panel.  Passing 
over  the  centre,  the  story  is  continued  by  the  proof- 
reader, and  concluded  in  the  last  panel,  which  repre- 
sents a  standing  figure  perusing  the  finished  book  in 
the  shape  of  a  Bible,  chained  tp  a  lectern.  The  centre 
panel  of  five  smaller  panels,  over  those  just  mentioned, 
exhibits  Mr.  Childs's  motto,  ^  I^ihil  sine  lahore^ 
and  on  the  remaining  four,  in  old  English,  is  painted 
the  command,  'Let  there  be  light,  and  there  was 
light.'" 

Mr.  Childs  is  one  of  the  best-known  and  one  of  the 
most  popular  journalists  in  the  United  States.  His 
name  is  familiar  to  the  newspaper  men  of  England,  and 
his  offices  are  models,  both  as  regards  the  mechanical 
departments  and  the  rooms  set  apart  for  his  editorial 


WASHINGTON,  ETC. 


421 


associates  and  writers.  Mr.  Cooke,  the  able  and 
trusted  correspondent  of  the  "London  Times,"  is  the 
financial  editor  of  the  "  Ledger." 

The  porter  at  Independence  Ilall  was  glad  to  get  the 
English  actor's  si^rnature  in  the  visitor's  book.  From 
the  moment  that  Irving  entered  the  place  he  attracted 
more  attention  than  even  "  the  bell  of  liberty "  itself. 
Long  before  American  independence  was  even  dreamed 
of,  this  bell  (originally  cast  at  Whitechapel,  London,  and 
afterwards  recast  in  Philadelphia)  bore  the  inscription, 
"Proclaim  Liberty  throughout  all  the  Land,  to  all 
the  Inhabitants  thereof!  "  Having  taken  in  the  his- 
toric room  which  was  formerly  the  Judicial  Hall  of 
the  English  colony  of  Pennsylvania,  Irving  said, 
"  How  English  it  all  is  !  how  typical  of  the  revolt 
the  portraits  of  these  great  fellows  who  headed  it  ! " 
Then  he  traced  likeness  to  livingT  Enijlishmen  in  several 
of  the  pictures.  "  One  hundred  and  thirty  portraits 
by  one  artist  I "  he  exclaimed.  "He  has  done  wonder- 
fully, I  think,  to  get  such  variety  of  style,  and  yet  so 
much  individuality."  In  modern  days  this  chamber 
has  been  the  scene  of  the  lying-in-state  of  several 
prominent  statesmen,  on  the  way  to  burirK  Among 
them  were  John  Quincy  Adams,  Henry  Clay,  Abra- 
ham Lincoln. 

American  history  proudly  recalls  that  "here,  on  the 
3d  of  November,  1781,  twenty-four  British  standards 
and  colors,  taken  from  the  army  under  Cornwallis, 
which  had  surrendered  at  Yorktown,  were  laid  at  the 
feet  of  Congress,  amidst  the  shouts  of  the  people  and 
volleys  of  musketry,  for  they  had  been  escorted  to  the 


422 


IMPRES8I0US  OF  AMERICA. 


door  of  the  State-House  by  the  volunteer  cavalry  of 
the  city,  and  greeted  by  the  huzzas  of  the  people." 
"But  let  us  not  forget,"  said  an  American  speaker,  dis- 
coursing on  this  theme  at  an  Irving  entertainment, 
"that  we  were  all  British  until  we  had  signed  that 
Declaration  of  Independence  I  " 


''BY  THE  way:' 


423 


n 


XXI. 


"BY  THE  WAY.' 


**  My  Name  is  Mulldoon,  I  live  in  the  Twenty-fourth  Ward  "  —  Protective 
Duties  and  the  Fine  Arts  —  "  The  General  Muster"  —  A  Message  from 
Kansas  City  — American  Cabmen  —  Alarming  Notices  in  Hotels  —  The 
Chicago  Fire  Service  —  What  a  Fire  Patrol  can  do  in  a  few  Seconds  — 
Marshalling  the  Fire  Brigades — William  "Winter  —  "Office  Rules"  — 
The  Reform  Club  and  Politics  —  Enterprising  Reporters  —  International 
Satire — How  a  Man  of  "Simple  and  Regular  Habits  "  Lives  —  Secre- 
taries in  Waiting  —  The  Bisbee  Murders — "  Hunted  Down  "  —  Outside 
Civilization  — "The  Bazoo"  — The  Story  of  a  Failure— A  Texan 
Tragedy  —  Shooting  in  a  Theatre  —  Evolutions  of  Towns. 

I. 

"Yes,"  said  Irving,  "I,  too,  have  made  a  few  notes 
of  *  things  to  be  remembered,'  as  we  passed  together 
some  of  the  last  proofs  of  these  chronicles  and  im- 
pressions. For  instance,  here  is  a  memorandum,  'Poli- 
tics ' ;  and  it  refers  to  General  Horace  Porter's  anec- 
dotical  illustration  of  ward  politics,  and  to  Mr.  Millett's 
letter  on  art  and  tariffs." 

"Let  us  take  the  story  first,"  I  suggested. 

We  both  remembered  it ;  so,  likewise,  will  several 
American  friends  of  that  excellent  raconteur,  Horace 
Porter,  one  of  New  York's  brightest  post-prandial 
orators. 

Irving  had  been  making  inquiries  about  the  city 
government  of  New  York,  and  remarking  upon  the 
curious  little  wooden  houses  away  up  at  the  further 
end  of  New  York  city. 


424 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


"Oh,"  said  Porter,  "those  places  belong  to  the  last 
of  the  Manhattan  squatters.  Most  of  them  are  occupied 
by  families,  who,  as  a  rule,  pay  little  or  no  rent  at  all. 
They  are  on  the  outskirts  of  progress.  As  the  city  ex- 
tends into  their  district  they  disappear,  seeking  *  fresh 
woods  and  pastures  new.'  Neverthelcsn  some  of  them 
become  quite  firmly  established  there.  They  are  in- 
cluded, for  voting  purposes,  in  the  Twenty-fourth  ward 
of  the  city.  The  houses,  as  you  have  observed,  are  not 
architecturally  beautiful.  All  the  inhabitants  keep  fowls 
and  animals  in  their  basements  or  cellars.  As  a  rule 
nobody  repairs  or  attends  to  their  abodes.  Occasionally 
in  wet  weather  they  could  bathe  in  their  cellars.  Re- 
cently one  of  the  most  important  men  in  the  district  was 
a  Mr.  Mulldoon,  whose  very  practical  views  of  city  poli- 
tics will  be  gathered  by  the  story  I  am  going  to  tell  you, 
which  also  illustrates  the  local  troubles  from  a  sanitary 
point  of  view.  MuUdoon's  premises  were  flooded.  He 
was  advised  to  apply  to  the  Commissioner  of  Public 
Works  on  the  subject,  and  to  use  his  political  influence 
in  the  matter  ;  and  he  did.  Entering  the  office  of  the 
commissioner,  he  said  :  — 

"'My  name  is  Mulldoon.  I  live  in  the  Twenty- 
fourth  ward  ;  I  conthrol  forty  votes  there  ;  I  kape  hens  ; 
the  wather  has  inundated  my  cellar,  and  I  want  it 
pumped  out  at  the  public  expinse.' 

" '  We  have  no  machinery  to  do  that  kind  of  work  ;  it 
does  not  belong  to  our  department,'  said  the  officer. 

"  *  And  be  jabers  if  I  don't  get  that  wather  removed  it 
will  go  hard  wid  the  party.  I'll  cast  thim  forty  votes 
for  a  Dutchman.' 


••5r  THE  way:' 


425 


;it 

it 

)tes 


"'You  had  better  go  to  the  fire  department.' 

" '  Divil  a  bit ;  it's  the  wather  department  I'm  afther.' 

"'The  fire  department  have  appliances  for  pumping, 
we  have  not ;  I  recommend  you  to  see  the  fire  depart- 
ment.' 

"He  does  so. 

"  Arrived  at  the  proper  officer's  desk,  he  says,  *  My 
name  is  Mulldoon  ;  I  live  in  the  Twenty-fourth  ward  ; 
I  conthrol  forty  votes  there ;  I  kape  hens ;  the  wather 
has  inundated  my  cellar,  and  1  want  it  pumped  out  at 
the  public  expinse.' 

" '  The  work  does  not  belong  to  this  department, 
Mr.  Mulldoon  ;  we  put  out  fires,  not  water.     I '  — 

"'Indade,'  said  Mulldoon,  calmly;  'thin  let  the 
party  look  to  it,  for  I'll  rather  cast  thim  forty  votes  for 
a  nigger  than  Tammany  Hall  shall  get  wan  o'  them.' 

" '  I  was  going  to  say,  when  you  interrupted  me,  that 
you  had  better  see  the  mayor,  and  get  an  appropriation 
for  the  sum  necessary  to  be  expended,  and  then  you'll 
have  the  business  done  right  away.' 

"'An  appropriation,  is  it?  Thank  ye!  I've  niver 
gone  ag'in'  my  party  ;  but  I  object  to  having  my  hens 
drowned  under  my  very  roof.' 

"  Going  straight  for  the  mayor,  he  said,  '  Mr.  Mayor, 
sorr,  my  name  is  Mulldoon ;  I  live  in  the  Twenty- 
fourth  ward ;  I  conthrol  forty  votes  there ;  I  kape 
hens  ;  the  wather  has  inundated  my  cellar,  and  I  want 
it  pumped  out  at  the  public  expinse.' 

" '  I  am  sorry  I  cannot  help  you,  Mr.  Mulldoon ; 
but'  — 

Not  help  me ! '  exclaimed  the  chief  of  the  little 


ft « 


42G 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


caucus  in  the  Twenty-fourth  ward  ;  '  then,  by  my  soul, 
I'll  cast  them  forty  votes  for  a  hathen  Chinee '  — 

"*If  you  had  not  interrupted  me,  I  was  going  to 
say  that '  — 

"  '  Oh,  then,  I  beg  Your  Honor's  pardon ;  it  is  only 
just  my  bare  rights  that  I  am  saking.' 

"  '  If  you  go  to  the  Board  of  Aldermen  and  get  an 
appropriation,  and  bring  it  to  me,  I  will  see  that  the 
work  you  claim  shall  be  done.' 

"VVery  well,  then,  and  thank  Your  Honor,'  said 
Mulldoon,  who  in  due  course  presented  himself  before 
the  principal  officer  of  the  board,  an  Irishman  like 
himself,  and  having  considerable  power, 

" '  My  name  is  Mulldoon ;  I  live  in  the  Twenty- 
fourth  ward ;  I  conthrol  forty  votes  there ;  I  kape 
hens ;  my  cellar  is  inundated,  and  I  want  it  pumped 
out  at  the  public  expinsc.  The  mayor's  sent  me  to 
you  for  an  appropriation,  and,  by  St.  Patrick  I  if  you 
refuse  it,  divil  a  wan  o'  them  votes  will  ye  ever  get. 
I'll  cast  them  for  a  native  American  first ! ' 

"*I  don't  see  how  I  can  get  you  an  appropriation, 
Mr.  Mulldoon.' 

"'You  don't;  we*l,  then,  the  party  may  go  to  the 
divil,  and  Tammany  Hall  wid  it !  I'm  ag'in'  the  lot  o' 
ye!' 

" '  Don't  lose  your  temper,  Mr.  Mulldoon,  I'll  see 
what  can  be  done  for  you ;  but,  in  the  meantime,  will 
you  allow  me  to  suggest  that  it  would  be  less  danger- 
ous for  the  party,  considering  the  situation  of  your 
residence,  if,  in  the  future,  you  would  arrange  to 
keep  ducks  1 '  " 


''BY  THE  way:' 


427 


;  o 


to 


n. 

"We  liave  not  talked  much  about  politics,  eh? 
And  a  good  thing,  too.  One  only  got  really  well  into 
the  atmospliere  of  political  life  at  Washington ;  and 
then,  after  all,  one  lieard  more  about  literary  copyright 
than  anything  else.  I  find  I  have  made  a  note  of  a 
letter  I  read  somewhere  recently  from  an  American 
painter,  in  support  of  taxing  importations  of  fine  art, 
more  particularly  pictures.  It  seems  to  me  this  is  a 
grave  mistake.  I  had  no  idea  that  protection,  as  it  is 
called,  existed  so  generally  in  America." 

"You  have  here,"  I  said,  "the  extreme  of  protective 
duties,  as  we  in  England  have  the  other  extreme  of  an 
unreciprocal  free  trade." 

"  I  can  understand  a  reasonable  protective  tariff  for 
a  commercial  industry ;  but  art  should  surely  go  free. 
For  a  country  that  as  yet  possesses  no  great  school  of 
painting  nor  sculpture  of  her  own,  to  obstruct,  nay, 
almost  prohibit,  the  entry  of  foreign  work,  must  be 
to  handicap  her  own  rising  genius.  The  examples  of 
the  famous  masters  of  Greece  and  Rome,  of  France, 
and  Holland,  and  England,  are  necessary  for  the 
American  student,  and  free  traffic  in  the  works  of  great 
modern  artists  would  have  an  elevating  tendency  on 
public  taste." 

"  As  a  rule  American  artists  are  favorable  to  the  free 
importation  of  foreign  pictures.  They  favor  it  from 
your  own  stand-point,  the  educational  point  of  view," 
I  said. 

"  Moreover,  I  can  quite  imagine  American  artists 


4-38 


IMPItESSIONS   OF  AMERICA. 


who  are  permitted  all  the  privileges  of  the  art  schools 
and  galleries  of  Europe,  and  who  sell  their  pictures  in 
the  Old  World  without  let  or  hindrance,  being  an- 
noyed at  the  inhospitality  of  their  own  country  in  this 
respect,"  he  replied;  "Boughton,  Bierstadt,  Whistler, 
and  other  well-known  American  painters,  for  exam- 
ple." 

"And  so  they  are,  no  doubt." 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact  public  opinion  in  the  United 
States,  if  it  could  be  tested,  would,  I  imagine,  be  on 
the  side  of  admitting  pictures,  bric-d-brac^  and  books 
without  duty ;  though  the  progress  of  what  is  called 
the  modern  free-trade  movement  is  likely  rather  to  re- 
tard than  advance  the  interests  of  a  free  importation  of 
fine-art  productions." 

"  In  what  way?"  he  asked.  "The  leading  idea  of 
a  great  reduction  of  tariffs  is  in  the  direction  of  aboli- 
tion for  protective  purposes,  a  tariff  for  revenue  only. 
In  that  case  luxuries  only  would  he  heavily  taxed,  and 
the  so-called  free-traders,  who  support  this  view,  would 
probably  count  in  pictures  and  bric-d-brac  with  luxu- 


ries. 


» 


"  I  should  call  them  necessities,"  Irving  replied ; 
"  for  the  mind  and  the  imagination  require  feeding  just 
as  much  as  the  body.  Besides,  how  are  the  Americans 
going  to  judge  of  the  work  of  their  own  painters  with- 
out comparison,  ard  current  daily  comparison  too,  with 
foreign  artists?  The  stage  is  as  much  of  a  luxury  as 
paintings.  Why  let  the  English  actor  and  his  artistic 
baggage  and  belongings  come  in?  It  is  a  pleasant 
thing    to    remember    that,    under   all    circumstances. 


*'5F  THE   way:' 


429 


plied ; 
just 
•leans 
with- 
with 
iry  as 
Irtistic 
sasant 
mces, 


whatever  the  troubles  between  the  two  countries, 
America  has  always  welcomed  English  players,  and 
that  has  given  her  some  of  the  best  theatrical  fami- 
lies she  has, — the  Booths,  JcfFersons,  Wallacks,  and 
others.  If  the  same  enlightened  policy  in  regard  to 
painting,  pottery,  and  bric-a-brac  had  been  carried  out 
in  the  matter  of  the  stage,  we  should  have  seen  just  as 
fine  an  art  appreciation  applied  to  pictures  as  to  plays 
and  players.  I  am  sure  of  it.  If  the  musician  and 
his  works,  if  the  opera,  had  been  handicapped  as  art  in 
other  directions  is,  would  America  hold  her  high  place 
in  respect  of  choral  societies,  orchestral  bands?  And 
would  she  enjoy,  as  she  does,  the  grand  operas  that  are 
now  produced  in  all  her  great  cities?  No.  While,  as 
you  know,  I  claim  no  other  credit  for  my  method  of 
presenting  Shakespeare  and  the  legitimate  drama  upon 
the  stage  than  a  performance  of  managerial  duty,  I 
am  quite  sure  that,  had  European  stage-art  and  artists 
been  hampered  for  twenty  years  by  restrictive  taxes 
and  other  fiscal  obstructions,  the  Lyceum  Company 
and  work  would  not  have  been  welcomed  as  they  have 
been,  wherever  we  have  pitched  our  tent.  The  same 
freedom  for  paintings  would  have  made  Watts,  Millais, 
Tadcma,  Leighton,  Pettie,  Leader,  Cole,  Long,  not  to 
mention  the  works  of  earlier  masters,  as  familiar  hero 
as  at  home,  and  would  have  crowded  American  homes 
with  examples,  original  and  copies,  of  the  best  schools 
of  Europe.  Would  not  that  have  helped  American 
painters?     Of  course  it  would." 


430 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


III. 

"Your  work  among  New  England  cities,"  I  said,  on 
his  return  visit  to  Brooklyn,  "  should  impress  upon  you 
the  grim  quaintness  of  the  story  Mr.  Emery  Storrs 
told  you  concerning  the  annual  festival  called  the 
'General  Muster.'" 

"Yes;  a  queer  story,  was  it  not?  And,  no  doubt, 
characteristic  of  some  of  the  more  remote  little  towns." 

This  is  the  story  :  — 

The  militia  muster,  once  a  year,  is  a  celebration 
peculiar  more  particularly  to  New  England.  It  is 
called  the  "  General  INIuster."  Each  little  town  comes 
in  with  its  quota  of  militia ;  the  bands  as  numerous 
as  the  troops.  They  make  a  holiday  of  it.  One  after- 
noon an  old  couple  on  the  hill-side  of  the  little  town  go 
out  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  festivities.  They  are  old 
and  alone,  managing  to  drag  a  mere  subsistence  out  of 
the  sour  soil.  Their  children  have  gone  West,  —  a  son 
here,  a  daughter  there.  They  are  content  to  spend 
the  winter  of  their  days  in  the  old,  hard  nest  where 
they  have  reared  their  young ;  old  folks,  so  old !  — 
parchment  faces,  bony  hands.  They  totter  to  the  town, 
and  rest  on  the  way  in  the  cemetery,  or  church-yard, 
and  look  at  the  graves  as  such  grizzly  veterans  will. 
One  of  the  militia  fellows,  going  home,  —  he  had  got 
fuddled  rather  earlier  than  usual ,  —  sees  them .  "  Hello  ! " 
he  shouts.  "  Go  right  back,  right  back,  my  friends  ; 
this  is  not  the  general  resurrection^  it  is  the  general 
muster  I " 

**  By  the  way,"  said  Irving,  "  did  I  tell  you  of  the 


"5r  TEE  WAT:' 


431 


»> 


amusing  incident  that  occurred  at  Philadelphia?  It 
was  on  the  last  night  of  the  first  visit.  We  were 
playing  'The  Belle's  Stratagem.'  You  know  how 
dilBficult  it  is  sometimes  to  keep  the  wings  clear  of 
people,  —  goodness  knows  who  they  are  I  Well,  my 
way  was  continually  blocked  by  a  strange-looking 
crowd.  I  remonstrated  with  them  once,  and  they 
moved ;  but  they  were  back  again.  The  cue  for  my 
entrance  during  the  mad  scene  Avas  at  hand,  as  I  said 
to  these  fellows,  'Who  are  you?  What  do  you  want?' 
'Baggage  I '  exclaimed  two  of  them,  both  in  a  breath. 
I  did  not  know  what  the  deuce  baggage  meant ; 
whether  the  reply  was  a  piece  of  information  or  a 
piece  of  impertinence ;  so  I  thought  I  would  astonish 
them  a  little.  Getting  my  cue  on  the  instant,  I  stepped 
back  a  yard  or  two,  and  dashed  in  among  them,  yell- 
ing my  entrance  line,  '  Bring  mc  a  pickled  elephant ! ' 
They  scattered  right  and  left,  and  fell  over  each  other ; 
but  before  they  had  time  to  defend  themselves  from 
what  they  evidently  thought  was  a  furious  attack  I  v/as 
on  the  stage." 


)f  the 


IV. 

I  HAVE  referred  to  the  "  theatre  parties  *'  of  ladies 
and  gentlemen  who  travelled  many  miles  by  railway  1o 
be  present  at  the  Irving  performances.  Several  in- 
vitations to  visit  distant  cities  were  also  given,  with 
guarantees  of  financial  profit.  Among  these  the  most 
interesting  and  complimentary  was  a  requisition  from 
Kansas  City,  which  is  worth  printing.  I  append  it, 
with  Irving's  reply  :  — 


432 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA, 


Warwick  Club,  Kansas  City,  Mo.,  Jan.  4,  1884. 

Mr.  Henry  Irving  :  — 

Dear  Sir, — Wo,  the  citizens  of  Kansas  City,  respectfully 
request  that  you  honor  this  city  and  the  West  with  a  profes- 
sional visit  before  your  return  to  London.  We  hold  in  pro- 
found admiration  your  great  histrionic  ability  and  success  in 
the  legitimate  drama,  and  your  reputation  as  the  leading  rep- 
resentative of  the  English  stage. 

We  will  endeavor  to  make  the  season  both  pleasant  and 
profitable  to  yourself  and  Miss  Teny,  the  brilliant  and  accom- 
plished tragedienne.  On  behalf  of  one  hundred  members  of 
the  Warwick  Club, 

Yours,  respectfully, 

T.  C.  TPtUEBLOOD,  President. 
F.  E.  HOLLAND,  Secretary. 

Alden  J.  Buthen,  "Kansas  City  Journal";  Morrison  L.im- 
ford,  "Kansas  City  Times";  George  W.  Warder,  John  Tay- 
lor, Smith  &  Ilieger,  Holraan  &  French,  Robert  Keith,  Cady 
&  Olmstead,  D.  Austin,  George  H.  Conover,  M.  H.  Shepard,  W. 

B.  Wright,  John  H.  Worth.  Woolf  Bros.,  C.  J.  Waples,  John 
Cutt,  John  Walmsley,  John  Sorg,  J,  V.  C.  Karacs,  Jos. 
Cahn,  H.  N.  Eps,  Milton  Moore,  R.  O.  Boggers,  Gardiner 
Lathrop,  B.  R.  Conklin,  W.  R.  Nelson,  Ilomor  Reed,  Albert 

C.  Hasty,  L.  E.  Irwin,  The  Irwin  &  Eaton  Ckg.  Co.,  Meyer 
Bros.  Drug  Co.,  Charles  L.  Dobson,  Fred  Howard,  James 
Scammon,  A.  Holland,  II.  T.  Wright,  Jr.,  N.  W.  McLain,  W. 
B.  Grimes  and  W.  B.  Grimes  Dry  Goods  Co.,  Charles  S. 
Wheeler  &  F.  II.  Underwood,  Merchants'  Nat'l  Bank,  A.  W. 
Atmour,  W.  II.  Winants,  Henry  J.  Lotshaw,  Web.  Withers, 
W.  A.  M.  Vaughan,  B.  O.  Christakkcr,  F.  B.  Nopinger,  John 
W.  Moore,  W.  II.  Miller,  Charles  E.  Ilasbrook,  H.  11.  Craige, 
Levi  Ilammersleigh,  B.  R.  Bacon,  Morse  Bros.  &  Co. 


My  dear  Sir, — Your  invitation,  on  behalf  of  one  hundred 
membei's  of  the  Warwick  Club,  is  one  of  the  most  gratifying 
incidents  of  a  very  pleasant  tour.  I  cannot  sufficiently  thank 
you  for  the  compliment  it  conveys  to  myself,  to  my  sister  in 
art.  Miss  Terry,  and  to  my  entire  company.  We  sliall  all  of 
us  treasure  it  as  a  delightful  memory  of  the  West,  and,  for  my 
own  part,  I  shall  never  be  content  until  I  can  respond  to  it  as 


"^r  THE  way:' 


433 


1  wish.    I  hope  the  day  is  not  far  distant  when  I  may  be  able 

to  visit  you  and  your  interesting  city.   I  regret,  however,  that, 

so  far  as  the  present  tour  is  concerned,  Mr.  Abbey  finds  it 

impossible  to  change  our  programme  so  as  to  make  it  fit  your 

most  kind  and  hospitable  invitation.  "■''■' '^ 

With  sincere  thanks  and  good  wishes,  in  which  Miss  Terry 

loins, 

I  am, 

HENRY  IRVING. 

St.  Louis,  January  7. 


>yer 

cues 

W. 

3    S. 

w. 

iers, 
[ohn 
usee. 


Ired 
j'mg 
Unk 
tr  in 
of 
my 
It  as 


V. 

"One  thing  I  notice  about  the  American  cabmen 
and  drivers  generally,"  said  Irving,  — "they  do  not  chaff 
each  other  as  the  London  men  in  the  same  positions  do. 
They  don't  appear  to  be  cheerful ;  don't  discuss  among 
themselves  the  news  of  the  day  ;  they  treat  each  other 
as  if  they  were  strangers.  English  people,  as  a  rule, 
complain  of  the  cab-fares  here  ;  but  they  forget,  on  the 
other  hand,  to  say  that  the  cabs,  or  coup6s^  as  they 
call  them,  are  beautifully  appointed  vehicles ;  private 
broughams,  in  fact.  The  only  inconvenience  is,  that 
unless  you  make  a  bargain  with  a  driver  beforehand  he 
may  charge  you,  it  seems,  what  he  likes.  Against 
that,  again,  is  this  set-off:  you  can  order  your  cab 
at  your  hotel,  or  your  club,  and  have  it  charged  in 
your  bill,  and  in  that  case  there  is  no  extortion.  Each 
leading  hotel  and  club  has  telephonic  communication 
with  livery  stables  ;  and  what  a  comfort  that  is  I  Then 
the  messenger  system, — one  almost  wonders  how  we 
do  without  it  in  London.  If  London  can  give  New 
York  *  points '  in  some  things,  New  York  can  certainly 
return  the  compliment." 


434 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


Asked  by  a  Boston  journalist  "how  he  considered  he 
had  been  treated  by  his  American  critics,"  Irving  said, 
"  I  am  exceedingly  gratified  by  the  intelligent  and  fail 
manner  in  which  I  have  been  treated  by  the  press 
wherever  I  have  gone.  The  Boston  critics  have  been 
just  and  generous  to  me.  Of  course  I  read  what  the 
press  has  to  say  of  my  work,  and,  while  I  think  it  is 
not  the  proper  province  of  an  actor  to  criticise  his  crit- 
ics, I  will  say  generally  that  I  have  been  pleased  to 
note  in  how  very  few  instances  I  have  had  to  encounter 
on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic  anything  in  the  nature  of 
personal  or  petty  feeling.  I  have  been  struck,  too,  by 
the  power,  vigor,  and  critical  acumen  which  your  lead- 
ing papers,  both  here  and  elsewhere,  have  displayed  in 
passing  judgment  upon  my  work  and  that  of  my  com- 
pany. I  have  a  feeling  that  an  actor  should  be  content 
with  what  he  gets,  and  that  it  is  his  duty  to  accept 
patiently  any  reproach,  and  to  profit  by  it  if  he  can. 
After  all,  criticism,  if  unjust,  never  harms  a  man ;  be- 
cause any  finid  appeal  is  always  to  the  public,  and, 
if  any  wrong  is  done,  their  ultimate  judgment  invari- 
ably corrects  it." 


VI. 

The  "  Southern  Hotel,"  at  St.  Louis,  displayed  promi- 
nently engraven  upon  a  tablet,  near  the  principal  stair- 
case, the  dates  when  it  had  been  burned  down  and 
rebuilt.  The  "Tremont,"  at  Chicago,  recorded  on  its 
handsome  new  buildirig  the  fact  that  it  had  been  de- 
stroyed by  fire,  Oct.  27,  1839;  July  9,  1849;  and 
Oct.  9,  1871.   "Having  dwelt  upon  these  dates  with 


"BY  THE   way:' 


435 


a  little  misgiving,"  said  a  member  of  Mr.  Irving's  com- 
pany, "some  of  us  felt  almost  alarmed  when,  on  closing 
our  bedroom  doors,  a  card  headed  '  Fire  I '  printed  in  red 
ink,  attracted  our  attention.  I  have  asked  permission 
to  carry  one  of  them  away  with  me,  thinking  you 
would  like  to  have  it."     The  notice  is  as  follows :  — 


its 
de- 
and 
vith 


FIRE!    FIRE!    FIRE  I 

There  have  been  placed  in  the  halls  of  the  Tremont  House 
GONGS,  which  will  be  rung  by  electricity,  as  an 

ALARM  IN  CASE   OF  FIRE. 

They  are  under  control  of  the  office,  and  will  be  set  going 
INSTANTLY,  on  the  slightest  alarm,  and  continue  to  ring. 

This  ringing,  with  the  system  of  calling  each  room  by 
watchmen  stationed  on  the  floors,  will  insure  the  speediest 
alarm  to  guests  it  is  possible  to  give  in  case  of  accident. 

On  being  awakened,  guests  and  employ6s  will  protect 
themselves,  each  other,  and  property,  to  the  greatest  possible 
extent. 

There  are  four  red  lanterns  in  each  hall,  at  the  comers, 
showing  the  Stairways,  and  at  the  End  of  eveiy  Corridor  out- 
side the  building  there  are  iron  ladder  fire-escapes  to  the 
ground. 

Passage  along  the  halls  and  corridors,  if  dark  and  filled 
with  smoke,  can  be  made  by  crawling  close  to  the  floor  with 
the  face  covered,  to  prevent  the  inhalation  of  smoke  and  con- 
sequent suffocation. 

From  the  Roof  and  the  three  stories  below  it  there  is  access 
from  the  service  stairs  to  the  tops  of  the  adjoining  buildings, 
making  a  Way  of  Escape  over  the  roofs,  from  Dearborn  to 
State  street,  —  a  full  block. 

JOHN  A.  RICE  &  Co. 

The  fire  service  at  Chicago  is,  no  doubt,  the  finest  and 
most  complete  organization  in  the  world.     Situated  as 


436 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


the  city  is,  on  a  vast  plain,  with  prairie  winds  and  lake 
winds  that  sweep  the  entire  country  for  hundreds  of 
miles  without  obstruction,  the  fire  department  has  to 
consider,  not  only  the  question  of  extinguishing  a  con- 
flagration, but  protecting  the  property  adjacent  to  a  fire 
from  ignition,  in  regard  to  which  it  has  a  series  of  wise 
precautionary  measures.  In  former  days  Chicago,  like 
many  other  American  cities,  was  largely  built  of  wood, 
and  there  are  still  outlying  districts  of  timber  houses. 
There  are  also  enormous  lumber-yards  in  Chicago, 
which  are  a  source  of  danger  during  fires  that  rage 
when  a  high  wind  is  blowing.  Not  long  since  Capt. 
Shaw  gave  an  exhibition  to  a  royal  party  in  London, 
demonstrating  how  quickly  the  engines  and  fire-escapes 
can  be  signalled  and  despatched  to  a  fire.  So  far  as  I 
remember  the  time  was  about  fifteen  minutes.  In  Chi- 
cago they  take  less  than  as  many  seconds  to  complete  a 
similar  operation.  The  system  of  fire-alarms  in  all 
American  cities  is  superior  to  ours,  and  the  arrangements 
for  starting  ensure  far  more  expedition.  We  have  a  less 
number  of  fires  in  England,  many  conflagrations  tak- 
ing place  in  America  through  carelessness  in  connection 
with  the  furnaces  that  are  used  for  heating  the  houses  ; 
then  shingle  roofs  are  not  uncommon  in  America ;  and 
in  England  the  party-walls  that  separate  houses  are,  as 
a  rule,  thicker  and  higher.  This  was  the  explanation 
which  the  American  consul  gave  me  at  Birmingham,  Eng- 
land, recently,  for  the  fact  that  during  a  whole  year  in 
Birmingham  (with  a  population  equal  to  Chicago)  every 
fire  that  had  occurred  had  been  extinguished  with  a 
hand-engine  and  hose ;  it  had  not  been  necessary  in  a 


''BY  TEE   way:' 


437 


Chi- 
lete  a 
m  all 
ments 
a  less 
tak- 
cction 
)uscs ; 
;  and 
ire,  as 
nation 
,Eng- 
iTcar  in 
every 
iwith  a 
ry  in  a 


single  case  to  use  the  steam-engines.  In  Chicago  and 
other  cities  the  electric  signal  announcing  a  fire  at  the 
same  time  releases  the  horses  that  are  tethered  close  to 
the  engines,  alarms  the  reclining  (sometimes  sleeping) 
firemen  in  their  bunks  above,  withdraws  the  bolts  of 
trap-doors  in  the  floor ;  and  by  the  time  the  horses  are 
in  the  shafts  and  harnessed  the  men  drop  from  their 
bunks  upon  the  engine.  From  a  calm  interior,  oc- 
cupied by  an  engine  with  its  fire  banked  up,  and  one 
attendant  oflScer,  to  a  scene  of  bustle  and  excitement 
with  an  englnv  fully  equipped,  dashing  out  into  the 
street,  is  a  tran  formation  sufficiently  theatrical  in  its 
effect  to  make  the  fortune  of  an  Adelphi  drama. 

I  once  engaged  to  time  the  operation  with  a  stop- 
watch, and  before  I  was  fairly  ready  to  count  the  sec- 
onds the  engine  was  in  the  street  and  away.  These 
exhibitions  of  skill,  speed,  and  mechanical  contrivance 
can  be  seen  every  day  at  the  quarters  of  the  Fire  Insur- 
ance Patrol.  Chief  Bui  winkle  is  one  of  the  most  oblig- 
ing of  officers,  and  many  a  famous  English  name  has 
been  inscribed  in  his  visitor's  book.^ 


1  The  head-quarters  of  the  Fire-insurance  Patrol,  are  eighty-five  feet 
■wide  and  one  hundred  feet  long.  The  first  floor  or  room  is  sixteen  feet 
eight  inches  high,  with  black  walnut  and  maple  wainscoting.  In  the 
front  of  the  room  there  are  two  pairs  of  stairs,  one  each  side.  Under 
these  arc  the  horses'  stalls.  Between  the  staii-s  and  stalls  is  the  patrol- 
wagon,  the  pole  of  which  is  ten  feet  from  the  front  doors,  which  open 
out  in  a  vestibule  by  electricity,  and  are  held  by  weights.  On  the  right 
of  the  room,  as  you  enter,  are  all  the  telegraphic  instruments  connected 
with  the  patrol,  with  no  wires  visible;  a  raised  panelled  black-walnut 
wall,  consisting  of  the  Electric  Mercurial  Fire- Alarm,  which  is  connected 
with  seventy  diff'erent  business  buildings,  concealing  the  wires.  This  is  a 
system  which  gives  the  alarm  automatically,  giving  the  exact  location  of 
the  fii'c  in  any  building.    Over  this  aanuuciator  is  a  large  clock.    Oa 


438 


IMPIiESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


The  method  of  marshalHng  the  forces  of  the  various 
brigades  in  case  of  a  serious  fire  is  interesting.  Mar- 
shal Swenie  explains  it  in  a  few  words,  in  answer  to  a 
journalistic  inquiry :  — 

"'There  is  at  each  fire-station  a  running-card  in  con- 
nection with  a  particular  fire-alarm  box.  All  these 
brigades  act  on  the  first  alarm.  If  the  fire  is  in  the 
crowded  and  costly  part  of  the  city  not  only  do  the 
nearest  companies  go  to  the  fire,  but  the  companies 
farther  off  move  up.  Suppose,  for  instance,  that  there 
is  a  fire  at  State  and  Madison  streets,  and  there  are  four 


panels,  on  the  right  and  left  of  the  above,  are  two  gongs,  one  giving  the 
fire-alarms  from  the  city,  the  other  connected  with  the  Mercurial  Fire-Alann 
Annunciator.  Under  one  gong  there  arc  three  small  gongs,  one  connect- 
ing directly  with  the  Western  Union  Telegraph  Office,  one  with  Marshall, 
Field,  &  Co.'s  retail  store,  and  the  other  with  the  City  Fire  Department. 
In  another  panel  .are  the  American  District  Telegraph  connections.  In  the 
ceiling  over  the  wagon  is  a  large  reflecting  gas-light,  which  shines  directly 
over  the  horses  when  hitching.  Just  in  the  rear  of  the  reflector  arc  three 
traps,  that  work  automatically  when  an  alarm  is  received,  opening  the  floors 
on  the  second  stoiy,  and  ceiling  of  the  first,  to  enable  the  di'iver  and  assist- 
ants to  have  easy  access  to  their  seats ;  two  other  members,  who  sleep  on 
the  second  floor,  make  use  of  the  same  means  of  ready  exit.  The  same 
telegraphic  instrument  sets  in  motion  appliances  which  take  off  the  bed- 
clothing  from  ten  beds  on  the  second  floor,,  and  four  berths  on  the  first, 
relieving  the  men  from  all  incumbrances  in  an  instant.  On  the  second  floor 
is  the  dormitory  for  the  men,  which  is  carpeted  with  English  body  Brus- 
sels. There  arc  heavy  black-walnut  bedsteads,  with  F.  I.  P.  cai"ved  in 
headboard,  inlaid  with  gold.  The  front  part  of  this  room  is  partitioned  off 
and  used  as  Captain  Bulwinklc's  room,  which  is  carpeted  with  Wilton  car- 
pet, bordered  with  white,  papered  and  frescoed  on  all  sides  in  handsomo 
style.  Conspicuous  here  arc  Avhitc  marble  mantels  and  gi-ates.  On  a  table 
in  the  centime  of  this  I'oom  is  an  album,  with  autographs  of  noted  people 
from  all  parts  of  the  world  who  have  been  visitors,  and  left  their  names  as 
a  testimonial  of  the  excellent  qualities  of  this  department.  The  time  re- 
quired by  this  patrol  to  get  out  of  bed,  dress,  hitch  the  horses,  and  get  out 
of  the  building,  is  four  and  one-half  seconds.  —  Stranger's  Guide  to  the 
Garden  City. 


••£r  THE  way: 


439 


■r  the 

daiin 
inect- 
•jjhall, 
mcut. 
uthe 
[I'cctly 
tlii-cc 
floors 
ssi3t- 
cp  on 
pamc 
bed- 
first, 
floor 
Eras- 
ed in 
ed  off 
n  car- 
idsomo 
tabic 
Ipeople 
les  as 
le  re- 
let out 
to  the 


engine-houses  in  a  straight  line,  extending  in  any  direc- 
tion to  the  city  limits,  and  a  mile  apart.  We  will  call 
the  company  nearest  the  fire  No.  1,  the  next,  No.  2,  the 
next.  No.  3,  and  the  one  farthest  away.  No.  4.  Now, 
when  No.  1  goes  to  the  fire.  No.  2  goes  to  the  engine- 
house  of  No.  1  and  takes  possession ;  No.  3,  in  like 
manner,  takes  possession  of  No.  2's  house,  and  No.  4 
of  No.  3's  house.  If  there  is  a  second  alarm.  No.  2 
goes  to  the  fire ;  No.  3  takes  No.  I's  house,  and  No.  4 
takes  No.  S's  house.  If  there  is  a  third  alarm.  No.  3 
goes  to  the  fire,  and  No.  4  takes  No.  I's  house.  More- 
over, what  is  done  in  that  one  direction  is  done  in 
every  direction." 

"'What  is  the  object  of  this?'  asks  the  interviewing 
reporter  from  whom  I  borrow  Marshal  Swenie's  infor- 
mation. 

" '  The  object  is  to  watch  most  closely  the  most  valu- 
able part  of  the  city.  A  fire  in  the  heart  of  the  city 
destroys  a  hundred  times  as  much  property  in  a  given 
time  as  a  fire  in  the  outskirts ;  therefore  we  arrange 
things  so  that  if  any  part  is  to  be  left  without  protec- 
tion it  shall  be  the  sparsely  settled  part.' 

"  '  Who  directs  the  operation  of  extinguishing  a  fire?* 

" '  The  captain  of  the  company  that  arrives  first  on  the 
ground  takes  command  of  all  the  companies  that  arrive 
after  his  until  a  chief  of  a  battalion  arrives ;  and  the 
chief  takes  command  until  the  marshal  or  assistant 
marshal  arrives.' 

"'What  is  the  position  of  the  commanding  oflicer  at 
a  fire  ? ' 

"'In  front  of  the  fire.     By  the  front  I  mean  to  the 


440 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


leeward.  A  fire  is  always  driven  by  the  wind  in  one 
particular  direction,  and  the  marshal  or  commanding 
officer  will  always  be  found,  therefore,  where  the  fire  is 
the  hottest.*     - 

" '  How  do  you  communicate  your  orders  in  such  a 
noise  and  excitement  as  there  \'^erc,  for  instance,  at  the 
Bradner  Smith  &  Co.  fire?* 

" '  Partly  by  messengers  and  partly  by  signals.  The 
signals,  however,  arc  very  few,  and  are  made  with  a 
lantern.  If  the  lantern  is  moved  up  and  down  it 
means  that  more  pressure  is  needed  on  the  stream  ;  if 
it  is  moved  horizontally  it  means  that  less  is  needed ; 
and  if  it  is  swung  around  in  a  circle  it  means  "take 
up,"  or  stop  work  altogether.* 
•    "'What  does  the  whistlinfj  of  the  engine  mean?' 

"'It  means  that  they  need  more  coal.  They  take 
with  them  fuel  enough  to  last  them  half  an  hour,  and 
by  that  time  the  coal-wagons  are  due.* 

" '  Do  you  ever  have  any  difficulty  with  your  men  on 
the  score  of  cowardice  ? ' 

" '  Not  any ;  but  I  have  a  world  of  difficulty  in  the 
other  direction.  The  ambition,  rivalry,  and  esprit  dit 
coi'ps  of  the  force  are  so  great  that  I  have  the  greatest 
difficulty  in  restraining  the  men  from  throwing  away 
their  lives  in  the  most  reckless  manner.  If  I  ever  need 
to  have  a  man  go  into  a  very  dangerous  position  all  I 
have  to  do  is  to  send  two  there.  As  soon  as  they  start 
each  one  insists  on  going  a  few  feet  farther  than  the 
other,  and  the  result  is  that  both  of  them  become 
willing  to  walk  into  the  fire.  There  is  also  very  little 
shirking  in  the  force.     Once  in  a  long  time  a  man  gets 


*'BY  THE  way:' 


441 


suspected  of  shirking,  and  the  way  that  is  cured  is,  he 
is  given  the  pipe  to  hold  at  every  fire,  and  four  men 
arc  put  behind  liim  to  ehove  him  in.' 

" '  What  are  tlic  greatest  obstacles  to  be  overcome  in 
extinjxuishinfj  a  lire  ? ' 

" '  Smoke  and  hot  air.  I  have  known  the  air  in  burn- 
ing buildings  to  get  so  hot  that  two  inhalations  of  it 
would  kill  a  man.  As  to  smoke,  we  use  a  kind  of 
respirator  ;  but  it  doesn't  do  a  great  deal  of  good.  Our 
main  hope  is  in  ventilating  the  premises  and  letting  out 
the  smoke.  If  it  wasn't  for  the  smoke  it  would  be  very 
easy  to  put  out  fires.' 

" '  Do  you  find  that  a  fireman  is  short-lived  ? ' 

"'I  can't  say  I  do.  So  far  as  I  can  see  they  are  a 
healthy,  long-lived  class,  when  they  don't  get  mangled 
and  killed  at  their  work.' " 


the 

du 

itest 

(way 

iced 

all 

jtart 

the 

lome 

little 

gets 


VII. 

"  Do  you  remember  the  poetic  speech,  in  verse  and 
prose,  that  William  Winter^  made  at  the  banquet  in 
Lafayette  place  ?  "  I  asked. 

1  William  Winter  is  probably  best  known  in  America  and  En<^land  as 
the  accomplisbcd  and  scholarly  critic  of  the  "New  York  Tribune."  As 
an  authority  on  the  di-ama  he  holds  in  New  York  a  similar  position  to  that 
which  the  late  John  Oxenford  held  on  the  "  Times."  While  there  are 
other  professional  ci'itics  in  the  Empire  city  who  write  admirably,  and  with 
the  authority  of  knowledjre  and  experience  about  the  stage,  William  Winter 
is  the  only  one  among  them  who  has  made  for  himself  a  prominent  name 
apart  fi*om  the  paper  with  which  he  is  associated.  There  is  no  other  critic 
sufficiently  well-known  to  be  entitled  to  have  his  name  mentioned  in  news 
cables  or  telegrams  aside  from  the  journal  which  engages  his  pen.  Winter 
has  broken  through  the  anonymous  character  of  his  journalistic  work  as 
successfully  as  Oxenford  and  Sala.    He  is  the  author  of  several  volumes 


442 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


"  Yes,  indeed,"  Irving  replied.  "  The  two  stanzas 
with  which  he  introduced  it  were  singularly  musical, 
I  thought." 

"  Here  they  are.  I  wanted  him  to  write  out  the 
heads  of  his  speech  for  me ;  but  he  had  only  written 
down  his  verses,  and  here  they  are,  as  dainty  as  they 
are  fraternal. 


*"If  we  could  win  from  Shakespeare's  river 

The  music  of  its  murmuring  flow, 
With  all  the  wild-bird  notes  that  quiver 

Where  Avon's  scarlet  mcalows  glow; 
If  we  could  twine  with  joy  at  meeting 

Their  prayers  who  lately  grieved  to  part, 
Ah,  then,  indeed,  our  song  of  greeting 

Might  find  an  echo  in  his  heart  I 


II. 

*'  'But  since  we  cannot  in  our  singing 

That  music  and  those  prayers  entwine, 
At  least,  we'll  set  our  blue-belU  ringing, 

And  he  shall  hear  our  whijpering  pine ; 
And  there  shall  breathe  a  welcome  royal, 

In  accents  tender,  sweet,  and  kind, 
From  lips  as  fond  and  hearts  as  loyal 

As  any  that  he  left  behind.'" 


Among  the  curious  notices,  serious  and  humorous, 
which  were  posted  in  the  offices  and  dressing-rooms  of 
the  various  theatres,  the  following  satirical  regulations 


are  somewhat  incongruous  when  considered  with  the 

of  lyrics ;  he  is  the  biographer  of  the  JeflFersons ;  and  since  Washington 
Irving  nothing  more  charming  has  been  written  about  "  the  old  countiy  " 
than  his  •«  Trip  to  En-flaud." 


'BY  TEE  WAVr 


443 


handsome  furniture  which  generally  belongs  to  mana- 
gerial rooms  in  America  :  — 

OFFICE   RULES. 

1.  Gentlemen  entering  this  office  will  please  leave  the 
door  open. 

2.  Those  having  no  business  should  remain  as  long  as 
possible,  take  a  chair  and  lean  against  the  wall,  — it  will  pre- 
vent it  falling  upon  us. 

3.  Gentlemen  are  requested  to  smoke,  particularly  during 
office  hours.    Tobacco  and  cigars  will  be  furnished. 

4.  Spit  on  the  lloor,  —  the  spittoons  are  merely  for  orna- 
ment. 

6.  Talk  loud  or  whistle,  particularlj'  when  we  are  en- 
gaged ;  if  this  does  not  have  the  desired  effect,  sing. 

6.  Put  your  feet  on  the  table,  or  loan  against  the  desk;  it 
will  be  a  great  benefit  to  those  who  are  using  it. 

7.  Persons  having  no  business  with  this  office  will  please 
call  again  when  they  can't  stay  so  long. 


of 
Ions 
the 

igton 


VIII. 

"  Will  you  please  tell  me  about  the  report,  cabled 
from  London  to  the  American  press,  that  you  propose 
to  stand  for  Parliament,  in  the  Liberal  interest,  on  your 
return  to  England?"  asked  a  journalistic  interviewer, 
at  Boston. 

"I  can  only  say  that  the  report  is  entirely  unfounded. 
It  arose,  I  imagine,  from  my  election  to  the  Reform 
Club.  You  know  they  do  occasionally  elect  out-of-the- 
way  fellows,  such  as  I  am,  in  the  matter  of  politics. 
The  welcome  news  reached  me  last  night  in  my  dress- 
ing-room at  the  theatre.  To  be  elected  in  ray  absence 
adds  to  the  pleasure  of  the  thing.      I  have  only  that 


444 


IMPItESSIONS   OF  AMERICA. 


•I 


interest  in  politics  which  all  honest  men  should  have, 
but  it  exists  only  under  my  own  roof.  I  do  not  think 
artists  should  mix  up  in  politics.  Art  is  my  vocation, 
and  I  confine  myself  to  i'." 

"Then,  I  assume,  you  have  never  cherished  political 
aspirations." 

"  Oh,  no,  never !  In  fact  I  should  be  totally  unfit 
for  Parliament.  I  am  not  eloquent,  and  should  be  unfit 
in  other  ways.  We  do  not  look  upon  politics  in  Eng- 
land as  you  do  here.  Here  political  life  is  an  avenue  to 
office  and  to  emoluments,  in  a  broader  and  deeper  sense 
than  is  possible  in  England,  and  many  choose  the  law 
as  a  profession  with  a  view  to  politics.  Do  they  not? 
It  is  not  so  with  us.  A  scat  in  the  House  of  Commons, 
as  a  rule,  involves  great  expense,  as  well  as  a  claim 
upon  a  man's  time ;  and  he  may  sit  there  all  his  life,  if 
he  is  returned  often  enough,  and  spend  evjry  year  a 
large  income,  socially  in  London,  and  locally  on 
charities,  hospitals,  reading-rooms,  churches  and 
chapels,  among  his  constituents.  We  do  not  pay  our 
representatives  salaries ;  pnd  I  believe,  particularly  in 
the  country,  the  constituent -v;s  watch  with  the  greatest 
jealousy  every  vote  a  member  records.  The  House 
of  Commons  is  not   a  bed  of  roses." 

I  have  said,  in  a  previous  chapter,  that  the  trouble 
in  respect  to  the  new  form  of  journalism  in  some  of  the 
cities  of  the  United  States  is,  that  tlie  reader  is  left  too 
much  in  doubt  as  to  the  truth  of  the  daily  chronicles. 
The  Chicago  reporter,  who  licld  up  t».e  "  interviews " 
of  other  journals  as  more  or  less  "  bogus,"  would  him- 
self have  found  it  difficult  in  this  respect  to  winnow  the 


--1  \;7WTI  -^^ 


''BY  TEE   way:' 


445 


ouble 
of  the 
eft  too 
nicies. 
views  " 
(1  him- 
ow  the 


chair  Trom  the  wheat.  At  St.  Louis  a  reporter  ^,>  ofessed 
to  have  taken  an  engagement  as  a  "super"  in  the  Irving 
Company.  He  wrote  a  description  of  "  behind  the 
scenes  "  in  that  capacity,  but  "  gave  himself  away,"  by 
making  all  the  company,  from  the  leading  actor  down 
to  the  call-boy,  drop  their  h's.  The  American  reporter's 
leading  idea  when  burlesquing  the  English  is  to  take 
every  h  out  of  a  Britisher's  conversation,  and  even  to 
make  tlie  Queen  herself  drop  the  aspirate  or  misuse  it ; 
for  instance,  here  is  a  summary  of  the  royal  speech  on 
the  opening  of  Parliament,  which  appeared  in  a  Phila- 
delphia journal  :  "  We're  pretty  w^cll,  I  thank  you,  and 
we  'opes  to  remain  so,  we  does."  If  in  our  stage  and 
journalistic  satire  we  make  Jonathan  "guess,"  "calka- 
late,"  and  "lick  all  creation,  you  bet,"  he  "gets  even" 
with  "  yahs,  deah  boy,"  and  "  'ow  har'  you,"  and  "  'pon 
my 'onor,  don't  chcr  know?"  But,  referring  back  to 
the  many  imaginary  interviews  and  fictitious  sketches  of 
Irving  and  his  life  behind  the  scenes,  here  is  an  extract 
from  an  account  of  "Irving's  day,"  which  appeared  in 
one  of  the  light-headed  daihes,  tliat  is,  in  some  respects, 
truer  than  I  dare  say  any  of  its  readers  believed  it  to 
be.  The  introduction  of  "the  secretaries"  is  worthy  of 
"Punch,"  and  in  its  earnestness  funnier  than  some  of  the 
great  humorist's  sketches  of  the  Irving  tour  in  America. 
Here  are  the  leading  points  of  the  article  :  — 

THE   METHODICAL    WAY   IN    WHICH   IRVING   PASSES    HIS   TIME. 

Heniy  Irving  is  a  man  of  simple,  but  regular,  habits.  lie  has 
gained  the  hearts  of  everybody  in  the  Belleviie,  from  the  pro- 
prietor to  tao  bell-boy,  by  his  courteous  demeanor  and  his 
desire  to  give  as  little  trouble  as  possible.     He  rises  at  nine 


r 


146 


IMPBES SIGNS   OF  AMERICA. 


o'clock,  and  drinks  a  cup  of  coffee  with  milk.  Breakfast  is 
served  in  his  private  sitting-room  at  ten  o'clock,  consisting 
of  tea,  boiled  eggs,  and  some  other  simple  dish.  The  eggs 
he  cooks  himself  in  a  little  spirit-lamp  arrangement  of  his 
own.  He  cats  the  meal  alone,,  and  glances  at  his  mail  while  at 
table.  The  budget  of  coiTespondence  is  usually  largo,  and  in- 
cludes letters  from  all  over  tlie  world.  After  breakfast  one  or 
two  secretaries  pay  their  respects  to  him,,  and  receive  his  in- 
structions in  regard  to  the  replies  to  the  missives.  The  daily 
papers  are  then  carefully  road,  and  any  visitors  who  call  are 
received. 

Between  twelve  and  one  he  leaves  the  hotel,  generally  in  a 
carriage,  and  always  accompanied  by  a  secretary.  The  theatre 
is  the  first  destination.  In  everything  concerning  the  stage 
arrangements,  indeed,  even  the  most  minute  details,  Mr. 
Irving  is  consulted.  A  skye-terrier  is  also  a  persistent  com- 
panion of  the  English  actor,  and  follows  wherever  he  goes. 

Mr.  Irving  dines  at  3.30.  A  course-dinner  is  served, — 
oysters,  soup,  fish,  a  cutlet,  and  a  bird.  Canvas-back  duck  has 
a  preference  among  the  feathery  food.  He  dines  by  himself, 
does  his  own  carving,  and  dismisses  the  servants  as  soon  as  the 
dishes  are  placed  in  front  of  him.  From  the  dinner  hour  until 
he  goes  to  the  theatre  he  is  denied  to  everybody.  No  matter 
whose  card  arrives  for  him  there  is  no  passport  for  the  paste- 
board througli  the  portals  of  the  actor's  apartments.  The 
interval  after  dinner  is  passed  in  study  and  meditation.  Mr. 
Irving  is,  above  all,  a  student,  and  every  gesture  and  motion 
he  makes  on  the  stag«  have  been  previously  considered,  and  a 
reason  found  for  the  change  of  position  or  features. 

After  the  theatre  Mr.  Irving  throws  off  the  restraint  of  the 
day,  and  sups  at  liis  ease  with  some  of  his  friends.  A  secretary 
or  two  are  included  in  the  pai.y.  Supper  lasts  sometimes 
until  two  or  throe  in  the  morning.  Last  Sunday,  when  Attor- 
ney-General Brewster  was  Mr.  Irving's  guest,  it  was  three  A.M., 
before  the  party  exchanged  adieux. 

Among  the  visitors  who  have  called  on  Mr.  Irving,  Viscount 
Bury,  James  Mellenry,  and  General  Collis  were  among-  the 
favored  ones  who  were  admitted  to  audience.     Scores  of  invi- 


"J5r  THE  way:' 


447 


limt 
the 
kvi- 


tations  for  every  kind  of  entertainment  have  overwhelmed  him, 
keepinj^  three  or  four  of  his  seci'etaries  busy  with  writing  his 
expression  of  rogrets. 

When  Irving  was  at  Philadelphia  he  had  a  young 
English  friend  visiting  him.  The  waiter  (who  was 
evidently  m.  the  confidence  of  the  local  reporter,  or 
might  have  been  the  reporter  himself  masquerading 
as  a  waiter)  pressed  him  in  as  a  secretary.  Abbey's 
manager,  Mr.  Falser,  Mr.  Stoker,  Mr.  Loveday,  and 
another  friend,  a  resident  of  Philadelphia,  were  all 
promoted  to  the  secretarial  office.  There  is  a  sub- 
lime touch  of  unconscious  satire  in  this  staff  of  secre- 
taries, engaged  upon  the  work  of  answering  Irving's 
letters,  which  will  be  particularly  appreciated  in  Lon- 
don, where  that  one  special  sin  of  his  —  neglecting  to 
answer  letters  —  is  even  commented  upon  in  learned 
reviews.  The  after-dinner  "study  and  meditations" 
is  "  Jeamcs's  "  view  of  the  siesta,  which  is  a  needful  in- 
cident of  every  actor's  day.  The  data  of  the  sketch 
being  fairly  correct,  the  bona  fides  of  it,  from  the  re- 
porter's point  of  view,  make  it  interesting  as  well  as 
characteristic  of  the  "  personal "  character  of  some  of 
the  clever  news  journals  of  the  day. 


IX. 

One  day,  during  "  this  interval  after  dinner,"  which 
is  "passed  in  study  and  meditation,"  Irving  said, 
"  Have  you  followed  out  all  the  story  of  the  Bisbcc 
murderers  ?  " 

"  iTes,"  I  said.     "It  is  one  of  those  strange  cases 


^WPfcW',"-' 


448 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


of  lawlessness,  that  I  have  taken  out  of  the  newspapers 
for  my  scrap-book.  Charles  Reade^  would  have  been 
interested  in  it.     Have  you  ever  seen  liis  scrnp-books  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Irving ;  "arc  they  very  remarkable?" 

"  Yes,  and  in  my  slovenly  attempts  to  save  newspaper 
cuttings  I  often  think  of  him.  I  once  spent  a  whole  day 
with  him,  looking  over  his  journalistic  extracts,  and  he 
was  lamenting  all  the  time  the  trouble  involved  in  their 
arrangement  and  indexing.  He  subscribed  to  many 
odd  out-of-the-way  newspapers  for  his  collections.  If 
he  had  ever  visited  America  he  would  have  been 
tempted  to  make  a  very  formidable  addition  to  his  list. 

"Do  you  know  the  beginning  of  the  Bisbee  busi- 
ness ?  I  have  only  seen  the  account  of  the  hunting  down 
of  one  of  the  murderers,  which  has  interested  me 
tremendously.  Have  you  seen  any  accounts  of  the 
capture  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Well,  then,  curiously  enough  I  have  received  a 
San  Francisco  'Chronicle,'  with  the  entire  story  of  it, 
and  I  believe  it  is  worth  putting  into  the  book.  Can 
you  tell  me  the  nature  of  this  crime  ?  " 

"  Yes.  One  day  several  strangers  arrived  suddenly  in 
the  little  town  of  Bisbee,  on  the  outskirts  of  Western 
civilization.     They  went  into  the  principal   store,  shot 


•  Among  the  cablcj;franis  that  cast  Eiijrlish  shadows  upon  the  tour  was 
the  announcement  of  Charles  Rcadc's  death.  This  had  ah'cady  been  pre- 
ceded by  obituary  notices  of  IJhinchard  JeiTold.  It  was  followed,  at  a  later 
date,  by  the  chronicle  that  Henry  J.  13yron  had  also  "joined the  majority." 
The  sudden  death  of  the  Duke  of  Albany  was  chronicled  by  the  leadinj? 
American  newspapers,  with  touching  sentiments  of  sympathy  for  the 
Queen  of  England. 


"5F  THE   way:' 


449 


m 

lOt 


Iwa9 

Iprc- 

lalcr 

ty." 

the 


down  the  owner  of  it,  fired  at  anybody  they  saw  on  the 
street,  killed  a  woman  who  was  passing  the  store,  and, 
having  generally,  as  it  were,  bombarded  the  little  town, 
left  as  mysteriously  as  they  came.  That  is  briefly  the 
story,  as  it  was  repeated  to  me  a  week  ago  by  Dr.  Gil- 
man,  of  Chicago,  who  has  recently  returned  from  the 
scene  of  the  tragedy,  and  other  mining  camps  and  towns, 
about  which  he  entertained  me  with  a  dozen  almost 
equally  startling  stories." 

"Well,"  said  Irving,  "the  hunt  after  these  Bisbce 
ruffians  is  about  as  dramatic  an  e])isode  of  police  work 
as  I  ever  came  across.  A  reward  being  offered  for  the 
chief  of  the  gang  who  raided  Bisbce,  it  was  soon  dis- 
covered that  *  Big  Dan,'  a  notorious  ruffian,  was  the 
criminal.  The  entire  business  was  after  his  most  ap- 
proved method,  and  it  was  finally  proved,  beyond  doul)t, 
that  this  was  the  latest  of  *  Big  Dan  Dowd's '  crimes. 
On  the  6th  of  January,  Deputy  Sheriff  Daniels 
brought  him  in  custody  into  Tombstone,  and  this  is  the 
story  of  the  capture  :  — 

"  '  On  December  23,  Daniels  learned  in  Bisbce,  from 
some  Mexicans  just  in  from  Sonora,  that  two  men, 
answering  the  description  of  *  Big  Dan '  and  Billy  De- 
laney,  were  in  Bavispe,  Sonora.  This  place  will  be 
remembered  as  the  point  from  which  Crook  started  on 
his  trip  into  the  defiles  of  the  Sierra  Madre,  and  lies  on 
the  western  slope  of  that  range.  Satisfying  himself 
that  the  information  furnished  by  the  ISIexicans  was 
correct,  Daniels  communicated  with  the  sheriff's  office, 
and,  after  making  all  necessary  arrangements,  started, 
on  the  morning  of  December  26,  for  that  place.     Ac- 


450 


IMFBESSIONS   OF  AMERICA. 


companying  the  officer  was  a  Mexican  named  Lucero, 
on  whom  Daniels  knew  he  could  rely  as  a  guide  and  a 
fighter.  On  the  morning  of  the  30th ,  after  a  ride  of  about 
two  hundred  miles,  Daniels  and  his  two  companions 
(he  having  picked  up  another  Mexican  at  Frontcra) 
reached  Bavispe.  Here  it  was  learned  that  Delaney 
and  Dowd  had  separated  five  days  previously,  Dowd 
remaining  in  Bavispe,  which  point  he  had  left  that 
morning,  about  an  hour  prior  to  the  arrival  of  Daniels 
and  his  posse.  Additional  inquiries  elicited  the  infor- 
mation that  Dowd  had  struck  across  the  Sierra  Madre  for 
Janos,  in  the  State  of  Chihuahua,  distant  about  seven- 
ty-five miles.  After  taldng  a  short  rest,  and  perfecting 
plans  for  the  capture  of  Delaney,  the  officer  started  in 
pursuit  of  the  other  bandit. 

" '  The  route  of  travel  led  through  the  defiles  of  the 
Sierra  Madre,  by  rocks  and  precipitous  trails,  and  it 
was  not  until  the  morning  of  January  1  that  Daniels 
reached  Janos,  where  he  learned,  as  at  Bavispe,  that 
the  bird  had  flown,  having  left  Janos  a  few  hours  .ahead 
of  him  for  Coralitos,  distant  about  twenty-seven  miles. 
Procuring  fresh  horses,  the  posse  started  at  once  for 
Coralitos,  which  place  was  reached  about  eight  o'clock 
that  evening.  The  town  is  in  the  centre  of  a  mining 
country,  and  is  composed  principally  of  Mexicans, 
there  being  but  half-a-dozen  Americans  in  the  place. 
The  whole  neighborhood,  as  described  by  Daniels, 
seems  to  belong  to  the  Coralitos  Mining  Company,  of 
which  Ad  Menzenberger  is  superintendent.  Daniels 
went  at  once  to  him,  and  communicating  the  object  of 
his  visit,  learned  that 'Big  Dan'liad  arrived  a  short 


<( 


BY  THE   way:' 


451 


ID 


ning 
*.aiis, 
lace, 
liels, 
r,  of 
nicls 
let  of 


time  previously,  and  wag  then  in  what  was  known  as  the 
house  of  the  Americans.  Tlie  superintendent,  having 
learned  the  character  of  Dowd,  was  only  too  willing 
to  assist  in  his  capture,  and,  under  the  cover  of  dark- 
ness, he  and  Daniels  proceeded  to  the  house.  Prior  to 
reaching  it,  it  was  agreed  that  tjie  superintendent 
should  enter  in  advance  of  Daniels,  in  order  to  prevent 
any  interference  by  the  Americans  who  were  in  his  em- 
ploy, in  the  capture  of  Dowd. 

"  'As  agreed  the  superintendent  entered  the  room  first, 
with  Daniels  at  his  heels.  Dowd  was  sitting  on  a  table 
facing  the  fire,  and  the  rest  of  the  party  were  scattered 
about  the  room.  On  the  table  was  standing,  also,  a  bot- 
tle of  whiskey,  which  had  not  been  uncorked.  Every- 
thing indicated  that  Dowd  had  no  idea  of  the  presence 
of  an  officer,  and  was  preparing  for  a  jolly  night  with 
his  companions.  He  did  not  even  look  around  when  the 
men  entered  the  room,  and  his  first  knowledge  that  he 
was  in  the  clutches  of  the  law  was  when  Menzenber- 
ger,  who  had  reached  his  side,  caught  hold  of  his  arms, 
and  throwing  them  above  his  head,  said,  'Throw  up 
your  hands.'  Daniels,  at  the  same  time,  with  a  cocked 
pistol  in  each  hand,  made  the  demand  to  surrender.  A 
word  from  the  superintendent  to  the  Americans  present 
showed  Dowd,  who  was  unarmed  at  the  time,  that  he 
was  powerless  to  escape,  and  he  quietly  submitted  to 
being:  manacled.  Daniels  remained  until  the  following 
morning,  when  he  was  furnished  with  an  ambulance 
and  escort  by  the  superintendent,  and  driven  to  San 
Jose  station,  on  the  line  of  the  Mexican  Central  Rail- 
road, one  hundred  and  ten  miles    distant,  and  about 


T.  .'P«»-»"f*')«WII»"i," 


452 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


ninety  miles  south  of  El  Paso  del  Norte.  Here  he  tele- 
graphed to  Sheriff  Ward  of  the  capture,  and,  putting 
his  prisoner  on  board  the  train,  started  for  home. 
Upon  ncaring  Paso  del  Norte,  he  feared  that  Dowd 
might  raise  a  question  of  extradition,  and  put  him  to 
much  trouble  ;  so  he  made  arrangements  with  the  rail- 
road officials,  and,  together  with  his  prisoner,  was  locked 
in  the  express  car  until  reaching  the  American  line.'" 

Irving  recited  most  of  the  "  Chronicle's  "  narrative. 
The  close,  terse  particulars  of  its  details  leave  sufficient 
color  of  surroundings  to  the  imagination  of  the  reader. 


X. 

"  Tombstone,"  he  said  presently,  "  is  a  curious 
name  for  a  town." 

"  Some  friends  of  mine,"  I  said,  "  have  business  inter- 
ests there.  It  got  its  name  in  this  way :  a  party  of 
young  pioneers  decided  to  go  there  on  a  prospecting 
•expedition.  They  were  ridiculed,  and  told  by  another 
party,  who  had  refused  to  join  them,  that  all  they  would 
find  would  be  a  tomb.  The  adventurers,  however, 
discovered  mineral  treasures,  of  enormous  extent, 
started  a  town,  and,  as  a  derisive  answer  to  their  pro- 
phetic friend,  called  it  Tombstone.  This  is  the  story 
of  only  a  few  years.  Tombstone  is  now  a  prosperous 
community,  and  has  a  daily  paper.  What  do  you 
think  its  title  is?" 

"I  cannot  guess." 

"  Eugene  Field,  a  journalist  whose  name  is  well- 
known  throughout  the  West,  gave  me  a  copy  of  it  only 
yesterday." 


"57  TEE  way:' 


453 


I  went  to  my  room  and  brought  down  a  well-printed 
four-page  paper,  entitled  "  The  Tombstone  Epitaph." 

"  And  not  a  funny  paper  at  all,"  said  Irving,  ex- 
amining it ;  "  a  regular  business-like  paper,  newsy  and 
prosaic,  except  for  the  short  literary  story  and  the  poem 
that  begin  its  pages." 

"  Mr.  Field  gave  me  some  remarkable  newspaper 
trophies  of  these  mining  towns,  that  may  be  said  to  grow 
up  outside  the  pale  of  civilization,  to  be  eventually  in- 
corporated into  the  world  of  law  and  order.  Here, 
for  instance,  is  a  i)lacard  issued  by  *  The  Bazoo,'  a 
newspaper  published  at  the  little  town  of  Sedalia  :  — 

BAZOO    KEWS    TRAIN! 

—  to  — 

NEVADA,  MO., 

Friday,  Decemueu  28,  1883. 


'di- 
mly 


BILL  FOX'S  PUBLIC  EXECUTION 
For  the  murder  of  Tom  Howard,  at  Nevada,  Mo.,  May  20, 1883. 


The  *•  Sedalia  Bazoo"  has  chartered  a  special  train,  which 
will  run  to  Nevada  from  Joplin  on  that  day.  Leaving  Jopling 
at  8.10  o'clock  A.M.,  and  returning  in  thirty  minutes  after  the 
death-scene  at  the  gallows. 


Kales  of  Fare  for 

Time-table. 

Hound  Trip. 

Leave  Joplin, 

8.10  A.M.        .        .        .      $2.00 

"      Webb  City, 

8.25     ♦' 

1.75 

•'      Edwin, 

8.43     " 

1.50 

<'      Carthage, 

8.63    " 

1.45 

'<      Carey, 

9.05     " 

1.25 

••      Jasper, 

9.15     " 

1.10 

••      Carleton, 

9.27     " 

.95 

*'      Lamar, 

9.40    " 

.75 

"      Irwin, 

9.57     " 

.GO 

**      Sheldon, 

10.07     *♦ 

.60 

♦*      Milo, 

10.35    " 

.25 

AmveNevr.da, 

10.20 

454 


IMPIiESSIONS  OF  AMEBIC  A. 


Cp"  Tickets  for  Sale  at  the  Depot.  ^^ 

Returning,  the  train  will  leave  Nevada  thirty  minutes  after 
the  execution,  giving  plenty  of  time  for  all  to  get  to  the  train. 
Tickets  sold  for  this  train  will  not  bo  good  on  any  other  but  the 
•*  Bazoo"  News  Train,  this  day  only. 

THE    BAZOO! 

Is  a  DaUy  and  Weekly  newspaper  published  at 

SEDALIA,  MO., 

For  the  People  now  on  Earth. 

Teums. 

Daily,  per  Annum $10.00 

Sunday,         "  2.50 

Weekly,        "  1.00 

l~^  Subscriptions  will  be  received  on  the  Train  by  a  So- 
licitor. .^3 

The  ••  Sedalia  Morning  Bazoo"  of  Dec.  29  will  contain  a 

Eicturo  of  FOX,  who  is  to  be  executed,  with  a  full  history  of 
is  crime,  his  trial,  and  the  last  words  of  the  dying  man  on  the 
gallows. 

Secure  a  copy  of  the  news  agent  on  the  train,  or  of  your 
news-dealer,  for  Five  Cents. 

"And  here  is  the  free  pass  (printed  on  a  mourning 
card)  which  accompanied  the  announcement  that  was 
sent  to  Mr.  Field  in  his  journalistic  capacity :  — 


THE   BAZOO  NEWS    TRAIN, 

On  the  occasion  of  the 

Public   Execution  op   Bill  Fox. 

Pass  Miss  Eugenia  Field, 

Acc't  of  Boss  Bog, 

To.  Nevada  and  Return, 

Dec.  28,  1883. 

J.  West  Goodwin. 


''BY  THE   way:' 


4/)5 


"Bill  Fox,  I  understood,  was  a  noted  criminal,  and 
everybody  was  glad  to  have  him  hanged  out  of  the 
way." 


XI. 

"It  is  a  lesson  in  the  evolution  of  towns,  these 
incidents  of  the  pushing  out  of  the  frontiers  of  a  great 
country,"  said  Irving.  "  I  dare  say  Denver  began  its 
career  as  a  mining-camp." 

"  It  did  ;  and  only  a  few  years  ago." 

"  And  now  they  tell  me  it  is  a  beautiful  and  well- 
ordered  city,  with  the  finest  opera-house  in  all 
America." 

"  That  is  so ;  and  one  day  you  ought  to  play 
there." 

"  I  hope  I  may  ;  I  would  like  it  very  much.  By  the 
way,  your  bill  about  '  The  Bazoo '  excursion  reminds 
me  of  two  curious  placards  which  the  manager  of  Ilav- 
erly's  gave  mc.  They  tell  the  story  of  the  fate  of  a 
new  play  that  was  once  produced  at  his  theatre.  It 
was  called  '  Ilix's  Fix,'  and  was  a  terrible  failure.  The 
theatre  had  been  engaged  for  a  short  season  for  '  Hix's 
Fix,'  and  the  proprietors  of  it  were  at  their  wits'  ends 
to  know  what  to  do.  They  were  not  prepared  to  play 
any  other  piece  ;  bo  they  hit  upon  the  expedient  of 
'pushing  the  failure.'  They  printed  half  a  million 
handbills,  and  circulated  them  diligently.  This  is  one 
of  them ;  it  reads  as  follows  :  — 


) 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


1.25 


■^  1^  III 


12,2 


lb 

Kf 
U 


lAO 


2.0 


1.8 


U     II  1.6 


V] 


Va 


ol 


A 


^  > 


'/ 


s 


% 


V* 


<h 


v^ 


%^ 


:^ 


^ 


456 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


HAVERLY'S    THEATRE. 


In  obedience  to  the  Unanimous  Opinion  of  tlie  Daily  Press 

Mestayeu  &  Barton 

Seriously  think  of  Changing  the  name  of  their  Play, 

HIX'S  FIX,  TO  ROT. 

In  sober  truth,  this  is  about  the  right  thing 

It  is  the  funniest  rot  you  have  ever  seen,  and  stands  pre- 
eminent and  alone  the 


Worst  Play  of  the  Age. 


Opinions  of  the  Press: 
Hix's  Fix  is  bad  enough,  but  think  of  the  poor  audience. — 


News. 


All  that  is  not  idiotic  is  vile.  —  Tribune. 


The  piece  is  sheer  nonsense,  to  speak  mildly.  -—  Times. 


The  most  painful  dramatic  infliction  we  have  suffered  this 
season. — Evening  News. 

everybody's  judgment  wanted. 


TURN  OUT  and  JOIN  the  MOURNERS. 


Every  Night  tliis  Week  and  Wednesday  and  Saturday 

Matin6es. 


'  "  Under  the  influence  of  this  extraordinary  announce- 
ment, the  business  improved,  stimulated  by  which 
cheering  result  the  managers  issued  a  new  proclamation, 
to  this  effect :  — 


*'BY  TEE  way:' 


457 


HAVERLY'S     THEATRE. 


Every  Night  tliis  Week  and  usual  Matin6es. 

mx's  FIX 

Is  unquestionably  the  worst  Play  ever  produced. 

It  is  so  much  worse  that  no  one  should  miss  it ! 

THIS  IS  CONFIDENTIAL  (?) 


To  illustrate  how  good  people  will  sometimes  go  wrong,  read 
the  list  of  talent  engaged  in  jilaying  this  vile  trash. 

William  A.  Mestayer, 

The  heaviest  of  heavy  Tragedians. 

Rob't  E.  Graham, 

Unequalled  in  Character  Impersonations. 

Harry  Bloodgood,  Fred.  Turner,   Cuas.  A.   Stedman, 

II.  A.  Cripps. 

Miss  Kate  Foley, 

As  bright  as  a  sunbeam, 

Sophie  Hummell,  Helex  Lowell,  Lisle  Riddell,  with 
James  Barton,  as  Manager. 

Hero  you  have  the  novelty  of  a  very  Good  Company  in  an 
unpardonably  Bad  Play. 

AND    TIIEY  KNOW  IT! 


You  must  admire  their  Candor,  if  you  will  condemn  the  Play. 


"  Many  curious  people  were  drawn  to  the  theatre  in 
this  way ;  but  the  attraction  of  failure  only  lasted  a  few 
nights.  The  invitation  to  turn  out  and  join  the 
mourners  strikes  one  as  funny.  'It  helped  them  to  pay 
expenses,'  said  the  manager  ;  '  but  it  is  the  most  novel 
cflPort  to  "turn  diseases  to  commodities,"  as  FalstafFsays, 
that  ever  came  under  my  notice."*        * 


458 


IMPBESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


xir. 

"  And  now,"  continued  Irving,  "  to  go  back  to  your 
opening,  where  wc  rather  discount  Raymond's  stories 
of  the  wild  life  of  Texas.  Have  you  seen  the '  Herald's  * 
latest  sensation  ? "  •    -  ' 

«m."     ••  '  '' 

"  Not  the  Texan  tragedy  ?  " 

"JSTo." 

"Here  it  is,  then;  listen  to  the  heads  of  it:  *Two 
Crime-stained  Ruffians  die  with  their  Boots  on  —  Pistol 
Shots  in  a  Theatre  —  Killed  in  Self-defence  by  Men 
whose  Lives  they  sought  —  The  Heroes  of  many 
Murders ! ' " 

He  handed  me  the  paper,  saying,  "  Read  that  I  And 
yet  we  chaffed  poor  Raymond  I  " 

I  read  a  " special  telegram "  to  the  "Herald"  (and 
verified  the  report  at  a  later  day  by  the  records  of  other 
journals,  local,  and  of  the  "  Empire  city  ") ,  reporting  that 
on  the  11th  of  March,  between  ten  and  twelve  at  night, 
San  Antonio,  Texas,  was  "thrown  into  a  state  of  wild 
excitement,  by  the  report  that  Ben  Thompson  and  King 
Fisher  had  been  shot  and  killed  at  the  Vaudeville 
Theatre.  An  immense  crowd  thronged  around  the 
doors  of  the  theatre,  but  were  denied  admission  by  the 
officers  who  had  taken  possession  of  the  building. 

"  It  seems  that  Ben  Thompson,  who  is  noted  through- 
out Texas  as  one  of  the  most  reckless  and  desperate 
characters  in  the  State,  and  King  Fisher,  who  also  had 
the  reputation  of  a  desperado,  arrived  at  San  Antonio  to- 
gether, from  Austin,  by  the  International  train.     After 


"2?r  TEE  way:' 


459 


itc 
lad 


enjoying  the  performance  at  Turner  Hall  for  a  time, 
they  left  before  the  curtain  fell,  and  went  to  the  Vaude- 
ville Theatre,  in  company  with  another  person.  As 
soon  as  it  became  known  that  Thompson  was  in  the 
city  the  police  were  on  the  alert,  expecting  trouble. 
Fisher  and  Thompson  entered  the  Vaudeville,  and', 
after  taking  a  drink  at  the  bar,  went  upstairs  and  took 
seats.  They  engaged  in  a  brief  conversation  with 
Simms,  one  of  the  proprietors,  and  the  whole  party 
took  drinks  and  cigars  together.  Thompson  and 
Fisher  then  rose,  and,  in  company  with  Simms  and 
Coy,  a  special  policeman  at  the  theatre,  started  down- 
stairs. 

"  The  party  was  joined  by  Joe  Foster,  another  of 
the  Vaudeville  proprietors,  and  an  excited  and  heated 
conversation  followed,  during  which  Thompson  called 
Foster  a  liar,  a  thief,  and  other  vile  names.  Firing 
then  commenced,  and  some  ten  or  twelve  shots  were 
heard  in  rapid  succession.  Police  Captain  Shardein  and 
another  officer  rushed  upstairs,  to  find  Ben  Thompson 
and  King  Fisher  weltering  in  their  blood  in  the  comer 
of  a  room  near  the  door  leading  downstairs.  Joe 
Foster  was  badly  wounded  in  the  leg,  and  Officer  Coy 
slightly  grazed  on  the  shin. 

"  A  scene  of  the  wildest  confusion  ensued  as  soon  as 
the  shooting  commenced.  All  who  were  in  the  theatre 
knew  of  the  presence  of  Thompson  and  Fisher,  and 
were  well  acquainted  with  their  desperate  character. 
When  the  first  shot  was  fired  the  whole  crowd  seemed 
to  be  panic-stricken.  The  dress  circle  was  quickly 
cleared,  the  occupants  jumping  into  the  parquet  below 


4G0 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


and  through  the  side-windows  into  the  street.  No  one 
seems  to  know  who  fired  the  first  shot,  or  how  many 
were  engaged  in  the  shooting.  Before  the  theatre 
was  fairly  cleared  of  its  occupants  fifteen  hundred  per- 
sons on  the  outside  were  clamoring  at  the  closed  doors 
iTor  admittance,  which  was  resolutely  denied  by  the 
police,  who  had  taken  possession  of  the  building. 
Subsequently  the  dead  bodies  of  Thompson  and  Fisher 
were  removed  to  the  City  Jail,  where  they  were  washed 
and  laid  out. 

"  Bill  Thompson,  the  brother  of  Ben,  was  at  the 
White  Elephant  at  the  time  of  the  shooting,  waiting 
for  Ben  to  return  from  Turner  Hall.  He  rushed  out 
as  soon  as  he  saw  that  there  was  some  trouble ;  but,  as 
he  was  unarmed,  he  was  stopped  at  the  entrance  to  the 
Vaudeville  by  Captain  Shardien,  and  kept  outside  the 
building. 

"  An  immense  crowd  followed  the  remains  of  the  two 
desperadoes  when  they  were  carried  to  the  jail,  and 
this  morning  the  plaza  around  the  building  was 
thronged. 

"  From  the  statements  of  those  connected  with  the 
theatre  the  killing  was  unavoidable,  as  it  seemed  to  be 
understood  when  Thompson  entered  the  house  that  his 
purpose  was  to  raise  a  disturbance  ;  but  whether  K"  ^ 
Fisher  shared  in  this  design  is  not  known. 

**  A  coroner's  jury  was  summoned  at  once.  They 
viewed  the  bodies,  and  the  inquest  was  held  the  next 
morning.  After  hearing  the  testimony  of  eye-wit- 
nesses and  others  a  verdict  was  returned  to  the  effect 
that  Ben  Thompson  and  J.  King  Fisher  came  to  their 


son' 
bly 
of 
hous 
little 
Ki 
and 
For 
Mex 
little 
Both 
shots 


*'BY  TEE  way:' 


461 


deatbs  by  means  of  pistol-bullets  fired  from  weapons 
in  the  hands  of  W.  Simms,  Joseph  C.  Foster,  and 
Jacob  Coy ;  and,  further,  that  the  killing  was  justifi- 
able, being  done  in  self-defence.  Coy,  the  special 
policeman  on  duty  at  the  theatre,  testified  that  Thomp- 
6on  drew  his  weapon  first ;  but  it  was  seized  by  witness, 
who  held  it  in  his  grasp  during  the  affray.  Thomp- 
son, however,  fired  four  shots,  one  of  which  took 
effect  in  Foster's  leg. 

"  Foster's  leg  has  been  amputated,  and  there  are  no 
hopes  of  his  recovery."  "    ,  .... 

The  newspaper  man  gives  "  Thompson's  antece- 
dents "  and  '■  Fisher's  record,"  as  follows  :  — 


the 
;o  be 
this 

They 
next 
-wit- 
effect 
their 


Ben  Thompson  was  bom  in  Knotting! ey,  a  town  in  Yorkshire, 
England,  in  1844.  His  father  was  a  sea-captain.  Ben  leaves 
a  wife  and  two  children  in  Austin,  —  a  bright  boy  of  fourteen 
years  and  a  girl  of  eleven.  He  has  a  brother  here,  who  took 
charge  of  his  body,  and  carried  it  to  Austin  to-day.  Thomp- 
son's record  is  a  bloody  one.  He  is  said  to  have  slain  proba- 
bly twenty  men.  His  last  victim  was  Jack  Harris,  proprietor 
of  the  Vaudeville,  whom  he  shot  in  June,  1882,  in  the  same 
house  in  which  he  himself  was  slain  last  night.  His  death  is 
little  regretted  here. 

King  Fisher  was  a  young  man  of  some  twenty-eight  years, 
and  his  record  was,  if  possible,  more  bloody  than  Thompson's. 
For  years  he  was  feared  as  a  frontier  desperado,  and  killed 
Mexicans  almost  for  pastime.  Of  late  ho  had  reformed  a 
little,  and  when  killed  was  deputy  sheriff  of  Walde  county. 
Both  men  were  strikingly  handsome,  and  noted  as  quick  dead- 
shots  with  six-shooters,  or  Winchesters.  Fisher's  remains 
were  shipped  home  to-night. 

The  reporter  adds :  "  The  city  is  now  quiet,  though 


4G2 


IMPIiESSIONS  OF  AMERICA, 


the  death  of  two  such  notorious  desperadoes  is  still  a 
topic  of  conversation." 

"Thompson  was  an  Englishman,  you  see,"  remarked 
Irving,  "  which  verifies  to  some  extent  what  I  have  often 
been  told,  that  England  has  to  answer  for  a  full  share 
of  the  ruffianly  element  of  the  States.  The  mining 
regions  of  California  at  one  time  were  crowded  with 
English  adventurers.  What  a  vast  country  it  is  that 
encircles  in  its  territories  every  climate,  —  tropical  heat 
and  arctic  cold  I  To-day,  while  we  are  ice-bound,  a 
journey  of  two  or  three  days  would  take  us  to  Florida 
and  orange-groves,  and  a  day's  travel  from  the  heart  of 
a  highly  civilized  city,  of  refined  cultivation  and  well- 
ordered  society,  would  carry  us  into  a  region  where 
men  live  in  primitive  state,  so  far  as  the  law  is  con- 
cerned, and  yet  are  the  pioneers  of  a  great  empire. 
What  a  story,  the  history  of  America,  when  somebody 
tells  it  from  its  picturesque  and  romantic  side  1 " 


.''K*; 


".  .,'•.»  •  '■■■■•  *'■ 


END  OF  TBB  JOURNEY. 


463 


»■/»..■..       :  '     ■  •■    <1,  V.  ^.  . 


,'.  »:    ,.-.  -,,.' 


.':t  ■        r-.i.\ 


•••i>' 


>     )■•    ,v 


xxn. 


,.■,!..<     >  •  . 


"THE  LONGEST  JOURNEY  COMES  TO  AN  END." 


"Our  Closing  Month  in  New  York"  —  Lent  —  At  Rehearsal  —  Finishing 
Touches  —  Behind  the  Scenes  at  the  Lyceum  and  the  Star  —  The  Stoiy 
of  the  Production  of  "  Much  Ado  "  in  New  York  —  Scenery  and  Prop- 
erties on  the  Tour  —  Tone  —  Surprises  for  Agents  in  Advance  —  Inter- 
esting Technicalities —  An  Incident  of  the  Mounting  of  "Much  Ado" 
—  The  Tomb  Scene  —  A  Great  Achievement — The  End. 


X. 


'•■.■i-  >,  ''. 


^wt 


"It  is  almost  like  getting  home  again,"  said  Irving, 
"  to  find  one's  self  in  New  York  once  more.  The  first 
place  one  stops  at  in  a  new  country  always  impresses 
the  imagination  and  lives  in  the  memory.  I  should 
say  that  is  so  with  pioneers ;  and  more  particularly 
when  your  first  resting-place  has  been  pleasant.  Let 
us  get  Monday  night  well  over,  and  we  may  look  for 
something  like  a  little  leisure  during  our  closing  month 
in  New  York.  We  shall  produce  *  Much  Ado '  as 
completely  as  it  is  possible  for  us  to  do  it,  outside  of 
our  own  theatre.  If  no  hitch  occurs  I  think  we  will 
run  it  for  two,  Falser  even  proposes  three,  weeks. 
If  we  have  been  complimented  upon  our  scenic  and 
stage-managerial  work  on  the  other  pieces,  what  may  we 
expect  for  'Much  Ado'?  Lent  is  severely  kept  in 
New  York,  I  am  told ;  Holy  Week  being  among  the 
churches,  if  not  a  fast  in  regard  to  food,  a  fast  from 
amusements.     We  must  therefore  be  content,  I  sup- 


464 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


pose,  to  let  *  Much  Ado  *  grow,  in  time  for  the  restora- 
tion of  social  pleasures  at  Easter."*  w 

On  Monday,  at  a  quarter  to  eleven,  Irving  was  at  his 
post,  on  the  stage  of  the  Star  Theatre,  for  a  complete 
rehearsal.  Scenery,  properties,  lighting,  grouping  of 
supernumeraries,  the  entire  business  of  the  piece,  was 
gone  through.  Not  a  detail  was  overlooked,  not  a  set 
but  was  viewed  as  completely  from  the  stalls  as  from 
the  stage.  ''-     ■  ■- .  .^    ;■  -'  •■  ,a>;  ;>,v,v*,,  <■.-> 't 

"Pardon  me,"  says  Irving  to  Claudio ;  "if  you  get 
your  hand  above  your  head  in  that  position,  you  will 
never  get  it  down  again.     Suppose  you  adopt  this  idea, 
eh?    What  do  you  think ?  " 
.  "Certainly,  it  is  better,"  says  Claudio. 

Irving,  as  he  speaks,  illustrates  his  own  view  of  the 
scene. 


1 "  Much  Ado  "  did  "  grow,"  and  was  played  for  thi-eo  weeks,  a  "  mixed 
bill "  closing  the  last  six  nights.  The  receipts  during  Lent  were  unprcce- 
dentedly  large  in  the  histoiy  of  New  York  theatres.  These  pages  go  to  press 
before  the  financial  returns  are  completely  made  up ;  but  it  is  known  to-day 
(April  25),  that  the  receipts  for  the  entire  tour  will  be  more  than  $400,000. 
The  social  hospitalities  in  honor  of  Ii"ving  and  Miss  Teny,  which  character- 
ized their  first  visit  to  New  York,  were  continued  on  their  return.  Among  the 
notable  breakfasts  of  the  time  was  one  given  to  lining  by  Edwin  Booth,  at 
Delmonico's,  on  April  14.  The  "  Times,"  in  chronicling  it,  says :  "  Mr. 
Booth  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  with  Mr.  Irving  on  his  right,  and  Chief- 
Justice  Charles  P.  Daly  on  his  left.  John  McCuUough  knocked  elbows 
with  Parke  Godwin.  The  other  guests  included  Jei-vis  McEntee,  Launt 
Thompson,  Charles  E.  Cariyl,  Richai-d  Henry  Stoddai'd,  William  Bispham, 
Eastman  Johnson,  William  Winter,  Bram  Stoker,  Lawrence  Ilutton, 
Frank  P.  Millett,  Junius  Henri  Browne,  II.  J.  Loveday,  and  E.  C.  Bene- 
dict. No  speeches  were  made,  but  in  the  course  of  an  informal  chat  Mr. 
Irving  was  asked  about '  Hamlet.'  He  said  that  he  hardly  thought  it  policy 
to  produce  the  play  for  three  or  four  nights  at  the  end  of  a  season,  and  on 
the  eve  of  his  departure,  particuloi'ly  as  he  contemplated  so  speedy  a  re- 
turn." 


END  OF  THE  JOURNEY. 


465 


,   "Then  we  will  try  it  again."  .    / 

,   The  scene  is  repeated.  ,iu 

"Yes,  very  good,  that  will  do."      .     —  r 

The  rehearsal  goes  on. 

"No,  no,"  says  Irving,  "  there  must  be  no  wait ;  the 
second  procession  must  come  on  promptly  at  the  cue. 
Try  it  again.  And  hold  your  halberd  like  this,  my  boy ; 
not  as  if  you  were  afraid  of  it.     There,  that's  it." 

The  supernumerary  accepts  his  lesson ;  the  music  cue 
is  repeated  ;  the  halberdiers  file  in  ;  the  military  strains 
cease,  the  organ  peals  out,  the  wedding  procession 
comes  on.    i  . »     .  ;  .    •'  ;    :i 

"Bow,  bow,  —  don't  nod,"  says  Irving,  stepping  for- 
ward to  instruct  a  subordinate  in  the  scene;  "that's 
better- — go  on."  » 

The  solemn  voice  of  Mead  opens  the  scene,  and  as  it 
proceeds,  Irving  calls  Loveday  aside.  ^  ^  f 

"  Too  much  light  at  the  back  there,  eh  ?  " 

"Do  you  think  so?"  says  Loveday.  "Lower  the 
light  there, — the  blue  medium." 

Steps  have  been  placed  as  a  way  from  the  stage  to 
the  stalls.  Irving  ("Charlie"  following  at  his  heels) 
goes  into  the  third  row,  Loveday  watching  and  wait- 
ing. 

"Yes,  that  will  do,"  says  Irving,  at  the  same  time 
turning  to  me  to  remark,  "do  you  see  what  a  difference 
that  makes  ?  You  have  no  difficulty  now  in  imagining 
the  distance  the  subdued  light  suggests,  — chapel  ves- 
tries, dim  cathedral  vistas.  Do  you  notice  what  a  last 
touch  of  reality  to  the  scene  the  hurried  entrance  of  the 
pages  give  ? —  they  break  up  the  measured  solemnity  of 


466 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


the  processions  with  a  different  step,  a  lighter  manner, 
the  carelessness  of  youth ;  they  have  no  censers  to 
carry,  no  ecclesiastical  robes  to  wear." 

As  he  is  speaking  he  strides  up  the  steps  and  upon 
the  stage  once  more.         »  •  .   •  .  .  - 

"Mr.  Ball  I     Call  Mr.  Ball,  please."  '  * 

The  musical  director  appears.  •  -^ 

"  The  basses  are  too  loud ;  they  spoil  the  closing 
movement,  which  is  too  quick  fdtogether.  Come  into 
the  stalls  and  hear  it."  '^ 

'   " Howson  I "  says  Ball,  "please  give  them  the  time." 

Ball  goes  into  the  stalls.  The  movement  is  repeated 
and  repeated  again,  the  last  time  entirely  to  Irving's 
satisfaction. 

In  these  passing  notes  I  merely  desire  to  give  the 
reader  a  hint  at  the  kind  of  work  which  was  done  at  re- 
hearsal on  the  Monday  of  the  production  of"  Much  Ado." 
It  lasted  until  a  quarter-past  five.  Irving  was  there  until 
the  end.  Out  of  sight  of  the  audience  he  had  done 
enough  work  to  entitle  him  to  a  night's  rest ;  but,  so 
far  as  the  critics  and  the  public  were  concerned,  his 
labors  were  only  just  beginning.  Shortly  after  seven 
he  was  on  the  stage  again,  and  when  the  play  began 
he  was  never  more  heartily  engaged  in  his  role  as 
actor. 

"Yes,  I  am  rather  tired,"  he  said,  in  his  quiet  way, 
when  I  spoke  to  him  at  the  wing ;  "  feel  inclined  to 
sit  down,  —  hard  work,  standing  about  all  day,  —  but 
this  is  the  reward."  ■  . -; 

He  pointed  to  the  setting  of  the  garden  scene,  which 
was  progressing  quite  smoothly.       :     ;.  •      -     -, 


END  OF  THE  JOURNEY. 


467 


"  If  we  pull  through  with  the  cathedral  set  all  right, 
one  will  not  mind  being  a  little  tired." 

I  waited  to  see  the  work  done,  and,  though  I  am 
familiar  with  the  business  beliind  the  scenes,  I  was  glad 
to  escape  from  the  "rush  and  tumble"  of  it  on  this  occa- 
sion. At  the  Lyceum  every  man  knows  the  piece,  or 
flat,  for  the  position  of  which  he  is  responsible.  He 
goes  about  his  work  silently,  and  in  list  slippers ;  he 
fetches  and  carries  without  hurry  ;  nothing  seems  more 
simple ;  you  see  the  scene  grow  into  completeness, 
silently  but  surely.  At  the  Star,  on  this  first  night,  it 
was,  to  all  appearance,  chaos.  Wings  were  slid  about ; 
curtains  unrolled ;  tapestries  hauled  up  by  unseen 
strings  ;  great  pillars  were  pushed  here  and  there  ;  im- 
ages of  saints  were  launched  into  epace  from  the  flies, 
to  be  checked  by  ropes,  just  as  you  might  think  they 
were  coming  to  grief;  a  massive  altar-piece  was  being 
railed  in,  while  a  painted  canopy  was  hoisted  over  it ;  a 
company  of  musicians  were  led  out  of  the  way  of  falling 
scenes  to  join  a  chorus  party  of  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
who  were  gradually  losing  themselves  among  a  pictu- 
resque crowd  of  halberdiers.  Everybody  seemed  to  be 
in  everybody's  way  ;  it  looked  like  a  general  scramble. 
Irving,  with  "Less  noise,  my  boys  —  less  noise  I"  con- 
tinually on  his  lips,  moved  about  among  the  throng ; 
and  as  Ball,  who  had  made  a  third  and  last  eflbrt  to  find 
a  prominent  position  from  which  to  conduct  his  band, 
stepped  upon  a  bench,  which  was  instantly  drawn  from 
under  him  by  the  stage  hands  who  had  it  in  charge,  I 
went  to  the  front  of  the  house.  Ball's  musicians  struck 
up  their  impressive  strains  of  the  "Gloria,"  and  the 


468 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMEBIC  A. 


curtain  slowly  rose  upon  the  cathedral  at  Messina,  as 
if  it  had  been  there  all  the  time,  only  waiting  the 
prompter's  signal.  Pandemonium  behind  the  curtain 
had  given  place  to  Paradise  in  front.  It  was  a  triumph 
of  willing  hands  under  intelligent  and  earnest  direction. 


n. 

Next  day,  when  the  success  o£  the  night  had  been 
duly  chronicled  in  the  press, ^  I  suggested  to  Irving  that 
we  should  place  on  record  some  account  of  the  manner 
in  which  the  Lyceum  scenery,  dresses,  and  properties 
had  been  dealt  with  on  the  tour ;  to  what  extent  the 
equipment  with  which  he  had  set  out  had  been  used ; 
and,  as  a  concluding  chapter,  that  we  should  tell  the 
story  of  the  production  of  "  Much  Ado  "  in  New  York. 
After  a  consultation  with  Loveday,  and  the  verification 
of    some   necessary   statistics,    Irving    exhausted   the 

1  The  excitement  of  that  cheerful  October  eveninor,  last  year,  when  Heniy 
Irving  made  his  first  appearance  in  New  York,  was  repeated  last  night,  at 
the  Star  Theatre,  where  "  Much  Ado  About  Nothing  "  was  presented,  and 
where  Mr.  Irving  and  Miss  Terry  effected  their  reCntrance,  and  were 
welcomed  by  a  great  and  brilliant  company,  with  acclamations,  with  floral 
ti'ibutes,  and  in  a  charmingly  manifest  spirit  of  the  heartiest  admiration 
and  good-will.  The  scene,  indeed,  was  one  of  unusual  brightness,  kindli- 
ness, and  eiyoyment,  both  before  the  curtain  and  upon  the  stage.  The 
applause,  upon  the  entrance  of  Beatrice,  —  a  rare  vision  of  imperial  yet 
gentle  beauty !  —  broke  forth  impetuously  and  continued  long ;  and,  upon 
the  subsequent  entrance  of  Benedick,  it  rose  into  a  storm  of  gladness 
and  welcome.  —  Tribune.  —  The  performance  at  the  Star  Theatre  last 
evening  was  one  of  remarkable  interest.  "  Much  Ado  About  Nothing  " 
was  produced,  and  Mr.  Irving  and  his  company  furnished  a  dramatic 
representation  more  complete  and  artistic,  and  in  cveiy  way  more  admira- 
ble, than  any  that  has  been  seen  upon  our  stage.  The  audience  was  large 
and  brilliant,  and  the  reappearance  of  Mr.  Irving  and  Miss  Ellen  Teriy  was 
greeted  with  every  demonstration  of  pleasure.  —  Sun.       ■ ;.  i  < 


END  OF  TEE  JOURNEY. 


469 


subject  in  a  very  pleasant  and  instructive  chat,  the 
points  of  which  are  not  too  technical  to  mislead  the 
general  reader,  while  they  are  sufficiently  technical  to 
be  of  special  interest  to   actors  and  managers. 

"After  the  Philadelphia  engagement,"  said  Irving, 
"I  discussed  the  question  of  scenery  with  Loveday,  and 
we  found  that  it  was  impossible  to  carry  or  to  use  many 
of  our  largest  set-pieces.  Even  if  we  could  have 
carried  them  conveniently  we  would  not  have  got  them 
into  many  of  the  theatres.  Loveday,  therefore,  packed 
a  mass  of  it  up  and  sent  it  back  to  New  York.  What 
we  had  left  was  enormous  in  its  bulk,  filling  two 
62-feet  cars,  and  one  huge  gondola-car,  which  was 
made  to  carry  all  the  flat  scenery.  We  took  on  with 
us,  however,  all  the  cloths  for  our  entire  repertoire^ 
and  many  of  the  small  practical  set-pieces.  We  car- 
ried every  property  of  the  entire  repertoire.,  —  the 
bedstead  of  *  The  Belle's  Stratagem,'  the  altar  of '  Much 
Ado,' the  horse  of  'The  Bells,' down  to  Cattermole's 
picture  of  Letitia  Hardy,  some  Chippendale  furniture 
of  the  period,  and  other  minor  things,  that  are  char- 
acteristic or  useful  decoration  in  the  furnishins:  of 
interiors  and  exteriors.  All  our  dresses  were  included, 
—  principals  and  supers.  Loveday  tells  me  they  filled 
one  hundred  and  twenty  great  baskets,  the  properties 
being  packed  in  thirty  baskets,  making  a  total  of  one 
hundred  and  fifty.  ^  )    ,  ,' v;  r  ■ 

"We  took  everything  to  Boston  and  Philadelphia. 
It  was  at  the  latter  city  that,  as  I  say,  we  decided  to 
modify  our  arrangements.  We  sent  back  to  New 
York  twenty-seven  cloths,  eighty  flats,   siiity  wings, 


470 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  AMERICA. 


ninety  set  pieces,  and  twelve  framed  cloths ;  so  that  we 
had  to  adapt  our  requirements  to  the  local  situation. 

"As  regards  such  of  our  scenery  as  is  painted  in 
tone,  you  know  that  one  of  the  most  remarkable  we 
have  is  the  frescoed  interior  of  the  hall  of  justice  in 
*The  Merchant  of  Venice,'  —  a  complete  reproduction 
of  the  period.  I  had  the  portraits  of  the  Doges 
painted  by  White  and  Cattermole.  I  think  it  is  one  of 
the  most  superb  pictures  ever  seen  upon  the  stage.  I 
understand  that  some  people  thought  it  worn,  mistaking 
the  tone  for  dirt.  Here  and  there,  I  think  we  found  the 
tapestries,  which  we  used  instead  of  the  frescoes,  more 
acceptable. 

"Some  of  the  scenes  in  'Hamlet,'  *The  Bells,'  and 
*  Much  Ado,'  we  had  specially  reproduced  ahead  of 
us.  Indeed,  the  companies  following  us  will  find  por- 
tions of  the  cathedral  of  Messina  around  the  walls  of 
many  an  American  theatre  ;  and  in  every  house  where 
we  have  played,  travelling  stage-managers,  asking  for 
a  cottage  scene,  will  find  a  reminiscence  of '  The  Lyons 
Mail'  in  the  inn  at  Lieursaint.  We  have  left  one  in 
each  town.  As  they  are  fac-similes,  they  will,  I 
should  think,  bewilder  some  of  the  agents  in  advance. 

"As  to  our  full  Lyceum  scenery,  and  what  may  be 
called  the  administration  of  it,  we  achieved  our  greatest 
triumph  this  week,  presenting  'Much  Ado'  as  nearly 
like  the  Lyceum  production  as  the  space  at  our  disposal 
would  permit.  Our  stage  at  home,  including  the  scene 
dock,  which  we  always  use,  is  seventy  feet  long,  meas- 
uring from  the  foot-lights  ;  the  Star  stage  is  fifty  feet. 
We  took  possession  of  the  theatre  on  Sunday  morniig, 


END  OF  TEE  JOURNEY. 


471 


March  30,  the  stage  having  been  occupied  until  Satur- 
day night.  A  smaU  army  of  men,  besides  our  own, 
aided  by  the  heads  of  departments  in  Mr.  Wallack's 
employment,  began  work,  under  Loveday's  direction, 
at  seven  o'clock  A.M.,  and  by  four  o'clock  on  Monday 
morning  every  scene  had  been  set,  lighted,  and  re- 
hearsed three  times  over.  At  four  they  adjourned, 
and  came  on  again  to  meet  me  at  a  quarter  to  eleven, 
when  we  had  a  full  rehearsal  of  scenery,  properties, 
lighting,  and  of  the  entire  company.  I  was  impressed 
and  delighted  with  the  earnestness  of  everybody  em- 
ployed in  the  work,  Wallack's  people  showing  as 
great  a  desire  as  our  own  to  do  their  best  to  achieve 
the  success  we  were  all  striving  for.  This  is  very 
gratifying ;  and  it  has  been  our  experience,  wherever 
we  have  reappeared,  that  the  employes  have  thoroughly 
entered  into  our  work,  and  shown  something  like  pride 
in  being  associated  with  us.  Our  experience  was  not 
as  pleasant  at  first.  Here  and  there  they  thought  our 
labors  affected,  and  considered  that  we  gave  them 
unnecessary  trouble.  In  one  or  two  instances  they 
put  great  and  serious  difficulties  in  our  way.  Wlien, 
however,  they  saw  the  results  of  our  labors  they 
became  more  amenable  to  orders ;  and  when  we  re- 
turned to  Chicago,  Boston,  Philadelphia,  and  now  to 
New  York,  there  was  no  trouble  too  great  for  them  to 
undertake  for  us.  I  thank  all  these  good  fellows 
heartily," 


1-1" 


472 


IMPBE88I0NS  OF  AMERICA. 


■y 


m. 


'\*r\ 


^'  **  But  to  return  to  '  Much  Ado,' "  I  said ;  "  let  us  go 
a  iittle  into  detail  as  to  the  number  of  scenes,  cloths, 
flats,  properties,  and  changes  there  are  in  the  work.  To 
have  got  through  the  piece,  without  a  hitch,  within 
three  hours  on  the  first  night,  is  a  very  remarkable 
performance."  .  ...     ..     ,,-       ;• 

"Well,  then,  there  are  five  acts  in  the  play,  thirteen 
scenes.  Every  scene  is  a  set,  except  two,  and  they  are 
front  cloths ;  there  is  not  a  carpenter's  scene  proper 
in  the  entire  representation.  To  begin  with,  there  is 
the  opening  scene,  —  the  bay,  with  Leonatas'  palace, 
buUt  out  twenty-four  feet  high, —  a  solid-looking  piece, 
that  has  ad  the  appearance  of  real  masonry.  I  am 
giving  you  these  details  now  from  a  cold,  practical 
stage-manager's  point  of  view,  —  fact  without  color. 
Well,  this  scene  —  the  outside  of  Leonatas'  house  — 
has  to  be  closed  in,  in  two  minutes  and  a  half,  discover- 
ing the  inside, — the  ball-room,  which  extends  right 
round  the  walls  of  the  theatre.  This  finishes  the  first 
act. 

"  Now,  the  second  act  was  rung  up  in  eight  minutes, 
showing  Craven's  beautiful  garden  scene, — terraces, 
glades,  and  arbors,  — in  which  set  the  business  of  the 
entire  act  occurs.    , ,,  , 

"The  next  act  opens  in  front  of  Craven's  cloth, —  the 
terrace,  wliich  changes  to  the  morning  view  of  the  gar- 
den, which,  in  its  turn,  is  covered  with  the  cedar  cloth ; 
thus  accounting  for  three  scenes.  After  the  last  one, 
in  two  minutes  the  change  was  made  to  the  effective 


END  OF  THE  JOURNEY.  473 

representation  of  the  town  at  night ;  the  riverside  street ; 
the  quay  with  its  boats  mc/orcd  ;  the  houses  on  the 
other  side  of  the  river  illuminated,  Lconatae*  palace 
among  them.     This  closes  the  second  act. 

"Our  great  anxiety,  as  you  know,  centred  in  the 
cathedral  set.  We  calculated  that  a  wait  of  eighteen 
to  twenty  minutes  would  be  required  to  send  the  cur- 
tain up  on  that,  no  doubt,  very  remarkable  scene.  It 
was  rung  up  in  fifteen  minutes,  displaying  Telbin's 
masterpiece, — the  cathedral  at  Messina,,  with  its  real, 
built-out,  round  pillars,  thirty  feet  high ;  its  canopied 
roof  of  crimson  plush,  from  which  hung  the  golden 
lamps  universally  used  in  Italian  cathedrals  ;  its  painted 
canopy  overhanging  the  altar ;  its  great  iron-work 
gates  (fac-similcs  of  the  originals)  ;  its  altar,  with  vases 
of  flowers  and  flaming  candles,  rising  to  a  height  of 
eighteen  feet ;  its  stained-glass  windows  and  statues 
of  saints ;  its  carved  stalls,  and  all  the  other  details 
that  are  now  almost  as  well  known  in  New  York  as  in 
London.  What  a  fine,  impressive  effect  is  the  entrance 
of  the  vergers  !  " 

".Yes,  you  were  telling  me  once,  when  we  were 
interrupted,  how  you  came  to  introduce  this  body  of 
men  into  the  scene ;  it  might  be  worth  while  to  men- 
tion the  incident  along  with  these  practical  details  of 
the  working  of  the  piece." 

"  It  came  about  in  this  wise.  I  went  into  Quaritch's 
bookstore  one  day,  and  among  other  curious  books  I 
picked  up  an  old,  black-letter  volume.  It  was  a  work 
on  '  Ceremonies,'  with  four  large  illustrations.  I  went 
into  the  shop  to  spend  four  or  five  pounds;  I  spent 


474 


IMPREaaiONS  OF  AMEBICA. 


eighty-four  or  five,  and  carried  off  the  black-letter  book 
on  *  Ceremonies,'  —  all  I/:alian.  I  was  at  the  time  pre- 
paring '  Much  Ado '  for  the  Lyceum.  In  the  picture 
of  a  wedding  ceremony  I  s.iw  what  struck  me  at  once 
as  a  wonderful  effect,  and  of  LUe  period  too,  —  the 
Shakespeare  period.  The  eifect  wat:  a  mass  of  verg- 
ers, or  javelin  men,  —  ofiicera  of  the  church,  I  should 
imagine.  They  were  dressed  in  long  robes,  and  each 
carried  a  halberd.  I  pressed  these  men  at  once  into  the 
service  of  Shakespeare  and  his  cathedral  scene  at  Mes- 
sina, and  got  that  impressive  effect  of  their  entrance 
and  the  background  of  sombre  color  they  formed  for 
the  dresses  of  the  bridal  party.  And  it  is  right  too, — 
that's  the  best  of  it.  Not  long  ago  I  was  at  Seville, 
and  saw  a  church  ceremony  there,  where  the  various 
parties  came  on  in  something  like  the  fashion  of  our 
people  on  the  stage;  but  we  never  did  anything 
80  fine  in  that  way  as  the  entrances  of  the  visitors  at 
the  Capulets  in  '  Romeo  and  Juliet.'  Do  you  remember 
the  different  companies  of  maskers,  with  their  separate 
retainers  and  torch-bearers  ?  But  I  see  you  are  about 
to  suggest  that  we  get  back  to  the  stage  of  the  Star 
Theatre ;  and  so  we  will. 

"  The  last  act  of  *  Much  Ado '  was  rung  up  in  seven 
minutes,  disclosing  the  scene  where  Dogberry  holds  his 
court ;  this  is  withdrawn  upon  the  garden  scene.  Then 
we  come  to  the  tomb  of  Hero,  never  before  presented, 
except  by  us,  I  believe,  since  Shakespeare's  own  time. 
This  scene,  with  its  processions  of  monks,  vergers,  and 
mourners,  and  the  few  lines  that  are  spoken,  gives  us 
four  minutes  to  make  a  remarkable  change,  back  to  the 


EIW  OF  THE  JOURNEY. 


475 


ball-room  in  Leonatas'  house,  wliere  the  story  is  con- 
cluded. As  you  say,  to  have  moved  all  this  see  -ery, 
and  represented  the  T)iece  with  its  many  characters, 
smoothly  and  without  a  blemish,  in  the  various  pictures, 
—  and  when  you  think  what  trifling  mistakes  will  uppcc 
the  effect  of  the  finest  scenes,  —  to  have  done  all  this 
within  tliree  hours  is  a  great  achievement.  The  theatre 
was  handed  over  to  us  on  Sunday  morning ;  on  Mon- 
day night  at  a  quarter-past  eight  the  curtain  rose  on 
'Much  Ado,'  mounted  and  set  with  our  Lyceum 
effects,  —  scenery,  properties,  company, — and  fell  at 
twelve  minutes  past  eleven." 


"And  the  longest  journey  comes  to  an  end,"  said 
Irving. 


FINIS. 


